Broken Flip Flops and Busted Shins
Today I reenacted a scene from Home Alone because my son needed another pair of shoes. Here’s what went down. Last weekend, Monica and I bought a few pairs of flip flops for Oliver because there was some crazy sale where they were $1 each. We got a variety of sizes and colors so he’ll be set for awhile. Today was the second day that he wore one of these new flip flops. At about 9:30 AM, I get a call from one of Oliver’s teachers at day care.
She informed me that Oliver broke his flip flops and now he doesn’t have any shoes to wear. We send in extra shirts and pants in case he messes up the clothes he’s wearing but we never thought to send in an extra pair of shoes. After I get over my initial stunned silence at the first sentence and my relief that the call wasn’t because he was hurt or had hurt another kid, I had to figure out what to do about my kid’s feet while I was at work. Fortunately, my schedule was pretty open and I was able to run home and pick up a pair of shoes for Oliver. Now that I think more about this, I’m curious as to how he broke them in the first place.
About halfway home, I realized that I had forgotten my house keys. After cursing loudly and repeatedly in the car, I decided to just keep going. I’d figure it out when I got there. How hard could this be? My neighbor has a key and I think that I hid one somewhere on the property (PLEASE DON’T ROB ME) so I can probably get in the house, right? I tried all the doors and they were all locked as always so that ruled out the easy approach. My neighbor wasn’t home and I couldn’t remember where I had hid the key. So now what? Well, we’ve got this one window that I knew wasn’t locked so I figured I’d try to jimmy it open and get in. (SERIOUSLY, PLEASE DON’T ROB ME). I’ve actually done this once before so it wasn’t a crazy thought.
If any passerby were to look over, they would have seen a grown man wiggling through a window, falling over, and then having said window slam closed on his shins. This is where the Home Alone reference comes in. I felt like Joe Pesci trying to break into a house and getting foiled by a child with a variety of fun, yet deadly traps. The only difference here is that I was playing all the parts. I was my own enemy for forgetting my keys in the first place, forcing me to squeeze through a window. I should mention that the shoes were in view the entire time I was doing this. If I was Mr. Fantastic, I wouldn’t have had to get into the house at all.
After tumbling through the house and retrieving the shoes (and a pair of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle socks), I swung over to the day care center to drop them off. Oliver’s teacher met me in the hallway because she didn’t want me to see him for fear that he’d get upset when I had to leave again. I was in and out of that building in less than a minute.
So, the moral of the story: You get what you pay for? Or always be prepared? Or maybe just remember your damn keys.