So this just happened:
The big girls were giggling away doing something, I wasn’t sure what, when the baby woke up. On the way upstairs, I noticed our coat/shoe closet was wide open and the shoe rack was askew. I tried to shut it, but it just wasn’t lined up right. The rack was now over the inside doorknob.
“Was one of you messing with the shoe rack? What happened here?” I said.
“No. We weren’t doing anything!” someone said.
I realigned the (empty, now that I think about it) shoe rack and firmly shut the closet door. When I came back downstairs, the shoe closet was open again.
“Ok, someone MUST have messed with the shoe closet. Why?!” I asked.
“We didn’t do it!” said Lily.
“Here’s a boot, Mommy!” said Rose, handing me a boot from 2 seasons ago.
“Why do you have a boot?” I said. “What are you doing with it?”
I rounded the corner to the living room, the room I had just been in, and the floor was completely carpeted with EVERY SHOE IN THE HOUSE. It was about a foot thick and a pile so large that it was breathtaking. I failed at blogger here because I didn’t think to take a picture of it.
“OH MY GOD. Where did all these shoes come from? Did you put them here while I was still in here? How did I not notice this when I went to get the baby? How did this happen?!” I gasped.
“No, we just put them here while you were gone. They were still in the hamper when you left.”
“But why were they in the hamper?!”
“We’re just playing ‘Shoe Pile,’” said Rose.
Of course, the time-honored traditional game of “Shoe Pile.” I should have known.
“That’s way too many shoes! You have to put them back! This is freaking me out!”
Rose to Lily, “We have to put the shoes back. It’s freaking Mommy out.”
It really was. It was SO MANY SHOES. It gave me a headache to even think about managing that mess myself. WHY? WHY? Why did they put ALL of our shoes in a pile? It was five people worth of multiseasonal shoes as well as outgrown sizes waiting for two kids to grow into them. It was an ungodly amount of shoes.
They got right to it, and for that I’m relieved because getting people to clean around here is like pulling teeth.
The whole time they cleaned, Rose was singing, “Who let the shoes out? Who? Who? Who? Who? Who let the shoes out?” to the tune of “Who Let the Dogs Out” by Baha Men.
When they finished, it occurred to me I hadn’t given them good instructions.
“Did you pair them up?”
“Here’s a new game for you: It’s called Sort the Shoes. Put each shoe with the shoe it matches.”
“Ugh. Do we really have to?”
Yes. Yes, you really do.
They are still playing that “game” right now. May the game of “Shoe Pile” forever rest in peace.