Awwww

This afternoon Bruce and I are hanging out with Caetlin in the den that is basically Caetlin's playroom. Minimal furniture, lots of toys- you get the idea. Bruce is playing some game or other on the desktop computer and I'm on my laptop monitoring work emails, while Caetlin is basically her usual whirling dervish of activity, playing with one thing or another, having stories read to her by Mommy or Daddy, carrying on a running conversation with us.

She points out that she's wearing socks and Daddy is wearing socks and Mommy is wearing...she cranes her neck to see that I have nothing on my feet. She rushes off, disappearing into the other room, and resurfaces a minute later, carrying my shoes.

"Here, Mommy," she says, handing them to me.

I thank her but don't put them on right away. She goes to play and comes back after a minute.

"Mommy put shoes on?" she asks. I put the one shoe on, and as if to ensure my full compliance, she says, "Mommy put the other one on too?"

When I comply, she looks at me and says, "Mommy has shoes on. And they are so pretty."

Am I more flattered that she thinks my shoes are pretty, or more happy that she appears to be shaping up to be as into shoes as me? It's one identifiable way that she is like me. Mommy is so proud.