Schews.

In preparation of getting Evie out-the-door, I walked through the house, "We gotta get your shoes, Evie. Time to put on your shoes so we can go. Let's get your shoes. Evie. Let's find your shoes." I absent mindedly repeat things like this to either fill dead air, calm her down while I run around getting us ready (she tends to get upset when we prepare to go places. It stresses her out wondering if she will be left behind or not), and to, of course, reinforce new words.
Instead of actually doing what I was saying, I marched straight into the bathroom before getting us together to leave.
From down the hall, "Schews? Schews. {pause}. Schews."
I had no idea what she was saying or doing until I heard her in the bathroom doorway.
"Schews."
Two pink converses are placed on my lap.
"Schews."
Holy schitt. She said "shoes."

In an additional note of irony (or is it coincidence?). Evie shares the same birthdate of Imelda Marcos. Something tells me Evie's passion for shoes must be controlled from this point on.