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Few things are more adorable to me than baby shoes. Yes, the clothes are cute, the socks are darling, but the shoes! The shoes! I’m don’t even love adult shoes the way I love baby shoes*.

I know Hemingway wrote a very sad six word story involving baby shoes (which he considered his best work), but when I see them I don’t think of that. I think of happy little baby feet in shiny Mary Janes and itty bitty Converses and black-and-white saddle shoes and how they’re miniature perfections of the grown-up thing.

I suppose in warm climates, babies could (and probably do) go without shoes, but I’m glad the ones around here don’t, because every once in a while I find myself wandering through the baby section of Target, (it is in between the books section and housewares, not out because some clock is ticking, if I need to specify that) and it really is such a delight to come upon those tiny shoes. I never plan on it, so it’s a nice surprise when I turn to the left and there they are. I keep my cool but inside I’m a total EEEEEE BABY SHOES mess.

I’m definitely not ready to be a mom. And yes, I’m aware that being a mother is more than picking out shoes and clothes. I have to say though, just when I think that I can’t take any more baby talk, the shoes suck me back in.

*You wouldn’t either, if you wore a 10 wide and had to wear clodhoppers that make grandma shoes looks stylish.