MyThreeDaughters

There’s no <i>odile</i> missing from the title. There is, however, a Croc missing as usual.
Crocs, for those who don’t have kids, or don’t have feet, are a wildly popular brand of shoes. If you look at the feet of the kids standing in line on any given day waiting for the school bell to ring, about 50 percent of them are covered with Crocs. Parents love them because you can slip them on a kid and be out the door in a minute. No laces, no tying, no double knotting, no worries.
Unless they are Elizabeth’s Crocs, in which case a Croc hunt ensues. She’s always missing one.
Always. Just one.
So then the wife and I and the eldest walk around the house looking for the other one. While we are doing that, Elizabeth sits by the door, waiting.
“Elizabeth, where did you put it?”
I don’t know.
C’mon, you must have some idea. Did you take it upstairs? Is it out on the porch? Elizabeth, can you at least help us look?
“I’m looking,” she says, while not looking and sitting on the step waiting for someone to find it.
Many times, we do. Sometimes, we can’t.
So we find another pair of shoes, then have to go find a pair of socks because no other shoe works quite as well sockless as a Croc.
And we tie them for her, because she’s not yet four. And we double-knot them. And we leave the house 10 minutes late for wherever it is we are supposed to be.