If the shoe fits..

Well, hello world. Things in my little blogger corner of the Internet have been quiet, but that's because things in the real life world have kept me busy. It seems that I forgot that adding an extra child looks less like this (workload x 3) and more like this (workload x workload x workload). I was trying to go for workload cubed but I can't figure out how to get a tiny little 3 next to workload, and at this point it's probably more trouble than it's worth. Anyway, I recently discovered a way to stop the madness of the same question being asked over and over. And over.
Gabbi and Micah are big enough to put on their own shoes, but they could never figure out which shoe went on which foot. A typical morning (in which they have been told five times to get their shoes on because we are going to be late for school) sounds like this:
(As I struggle to get Evie in the car seat while she cries/spits up/poops through the third outfit in twenty minutes)
"Gabbi, did you guys get your shoes on?"
"Mom! I need help! Is this the right foot?"
"No"
"Is this the right foot?"
"Yes"
(Puts shoe on. Slowly. Points to remaining shoe and shows me her other foot) "Is this the right foot"
"Yes. If you have one shoe on correctly, the other one is automatically correct as well."
(Looks perplexed, but puts on second shoe) "Are these on the right feet?"
"Yes.(Scoops up Evie, heads for door) Micah - did you put your shoes on?"
Micah has put his socks on his hands like a puppet and is dancing around the kitchen.
"Is this the right foot mommy?" (Micah collapses into a fit of giggles. We are not making it to school on time. If ever.)
I needed to find a way for the kids to distinguish which shoe went on which foot without asking me 54 times in one morning. So I got out a good ol' Sharpie and did this:

Please try not to be intimidated by my incredible artistic skills. 

Notice how the awesome bat that I drew for Micah looks nothing like a two-headed butterfly. At all. 

Micah knows that the "bat's" body needs to come together before he puts on his shoes. Gabbi knows that if the dog is able to smell its own butt, the shoes are going to be on the wrong feet. This has made mornings much easier. Well, in terms of shoes anyway. If anyone has any ideas how to get them to put on their jackets and backpacks without being told twelve times, I'm all ears.