The morning was hectic; we were running late. We had finally pulled into the parking lot of the elementary school when I looked down at my son's feet, clad in clunky snow boots.
"Your shoes are in your backpack, right?" I said.
"Ummmm," he answered. I sighed. He had forgotten them. Again. The shoes I had put right by the front door were probably still right there. Why couldn't he remember?!
"Sean!" I said sharply. "C'mon! You need to work on getting better organized. Now I'll have to go back and get them. That's going to make me late. That's not good."
He looked chagrined. "Okay," he said. "I'm sorry, mom."
He was silent. So was I. As we hurried toward the front door, I wondered if I went overboard in chastising him. After all, he was just a kid. I didn't want to start his day like this.
"I love you, silly boy," I told him before he went inside. "I'll bring your shoes to the office. Just ... don't worry about it."
He smiled at me. "See ya," he said, and ran inside.
I went back home and retrieved the errant shoes - which were right where I thought - delivered them, then started driving to work. I'd gone about two blocks before I realized how cold my own feet were.
Startled, I looked down and realized I was still wearing my snow boots.
I'd forgotten my dress boots at home.