Max and the Case of the Missing Shoes

Max has a mischievous streak.  He got in trouble the other day at school for picking up all his little Kindergarten friends.  He is fascinated by his tallness.  He talks about it all the time.   He certainly is testing me with his resistance to homework, picking up anything at all that belongs to him and his favorite pastime of dropping a shoe here or there (Never, ever in the same place, of course.)  That is why you will often see him with mismatching flip flops.  Thank goodness, he does not discriminate because it works out quite nicely that we usually have a right flop and a left flip.
On a side note, relating to shoes, this past Sunday we were our usual late to church selves rushing out the door when Max decides to throw a HUGE tantrum because he wants to bring his LeapPad to play with it in sacrament meeting.  I mean, come on!?  Really, Max?  How well do we know one another?  When have I EVER let you do that?  (Oh, yeah, that's right, your dad plays on his phone during church all the time.  Yes, well now I can see the confusion.)  Anyway, I calm him down and tell him to grab his church shoes so he can put them on in the car.  While I am speeding to church, I hear him utter words that strike absolute fear into my heart.  "My shoes don't fit me, Mom!"   No words.  Seriously.  No words.  And he was right.  It didn't matter how I tugged, pushed, pulled, wiggled, and jammed his feet absolutely refused to fit.  So, Max went to church without shoes on.  That's right, in his socks.  I was grateful they were at least church socks and not the regular white gym socks he normally tries to sneak by me on Sunday.  I tried to shame him.  "You should be SO embarrassed to wear only socks to church, Max!"  "Why, Mom? My socks will only get a little dirty."  (!)