Counting Shoes

When your family is young it is quite easy to place where all of your children are in the morning .  They should be in bed.  Well, I usually didn’t get that opportunity to see them in their beds in the morning, they were in my bedroom waking me up, but you understand what I mean.  They were where they were supposed to be.

Nowadays it is a different story. When I want to see where everyone is I get up in the morning and count the pairs of shoes at the front door.   Usually there is a pair of my teenager’s size 9.5 (small feet like his dad) and a pair of girls flip flops belonging to Allison (she’s not the one I’m concerned about).

Now it worries me when I see a foreign pair of shoes.  If they are obviously boy’s shoes I ponder this for a moment and wonder which of Tristan’s friends spent the night.  If there are a pair of girls flip flops that are not Allison’s I fly down the stairs and knock on Tristan’s door.  He opens it after five minutes of knocking and I return just in time after looking for that can opener thing that picks locks.  I look around the room and then make up something like,” I just wanted to make sure you made it home last night”.

I’ve found all sorts of interesting articles of clothing left by Tristan’s girlfriend in the last few months since they have been dating.  A skirt in the guest room, “She had to change for work.”  A purse in the entry way by the front door, “She forgot it.” I haven’t quite figured out the significance of that one, but what female forgets her purse for two days?  Shoes, socks and once a pair of jeans in the dryer.

I keep a pretty good eye on them and I’ve had the “talk” many times to groans and eye rolling.  I’m trying not to be one of those mothers that parents on either end of the spectrum.  My only solace is my oldest daughter made it to adulthood pretty much unscathed by my parenting and I am crossing my fingers it is working on Tristan as well.


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