Two different shoes. Not even remotely similar. One blue blinky-blinky, the other brown and usually a "Sunday morning shoe."
It's been a tough couple of weeks around This House with a Toddler. Messed up sleeping schedules, new bed, eating, napping, family in town. He slept through the night last night, well at least until 5:30 or so when he crawled into our bed and said, "Make room for me, Mama."
So, when we had a tantrum about the diaper and the shirt and the pants and the location of the favorite blankie and whether or not he could play with "the temperature" (yes, but only with the protective covering otherwise it beeps incessantly, which wasn't acceptable), and then he sat in my lap and undid the velcro straps on his brown shoes, handed them to me and let me put them on him, all without fuss, I was thrilled.
When he took one off and handed me the blinky-blinky shoe, giggling, I put it on him. He let me put his coat on without drama, too, so I packed up the matching pair of mismatched shoes in a bag for him to carry with The Favorite Blankie, and watched him march triumphantly to the car. I think we both feel like we got away with something this morning, which is what it's all about sometimes.