His Daddy's Genes

Roscoe is his own man, without a doubt, but once in a while I can trace something back to Ray or I that, well, doesn't seem like it would be genetic.  I am giving Ray's genes all of the credit for Roscoe's apparent shoe obsession.  Roscoe has always loved shoes.  He notices people's shoes, loves to play with his shoes and ours, puts shoes in bags and drags them around, brings people their shoes if they take them off (and tries to put them back on them), even kicks his feet up in his booster chair and laughs when he gets a glimpse of his shoes.  His favorite thing to do post-bath is to run (still naked) to our shoes and slip his feet into mine or Ray's or one of each and ski-walk around the room with his hooded towel on his head flowing behind him like a cape.  (And yes I have taken a picture, but I will save him the future humiliation of posting it on the Internet.)  But it doesn't end there.  When he gets a new pair of shoes, he loves wearing them so much that he will actually throw a tantrum when I try and take them off.  And he insists on bringing the new shoes with him to bed and sleeping with them in his crib.  Now, I do love a good pair of shoes, but anyone who has seen our closet (or helped us move) knows that Ray's shoe collection puts mine to shame.  Who knew it was genetic?