|Sorry there aren't more|
photos in the post.
I was busy doing mom
things at Target.
To the woman who is "helping" me locate my child who is currently running through the store because she didn't want to sit in the cart.
Believe it or not, I recognize my daughter's footsteps. They haunt me. I hear them at ungodly hours on weekends, creeping slowly to my bed to wake me up. I hear them chasing the cat around the house. I can hear them running in an opposite direction or coming toward me. I know as soon as I unwrap any sort of food for myself, those footsteps will soon follow. I can hear them stop and know, after about two minutes of silence, to see what she's up to.
She's not a light stepper. And I'm OK with that.