The Tale of the Missing Shoes

One of my neighbors sent around a flyer advertising a food drive for a local food bank. This happened to come at a time when I was feeling an itch to clean out my pantry. Seizing the opportunity, I collected a bag of food that for one reason or another never made it onto our plates… and then I missed the drop-off window!

The bag of food has been sitting near the front door for a couple of months, driving me a little crazier each time I walk by it. The food bank that my neighbor was collecting for is only open a few hours a week for donations. However, it happens to be located near my daughter’s gymnastics studio and is open for the half hour before her weekly lesson. The problem is (as anyone who knows me knows) I am always running a little late. So every week I have the intention of leaving 15 minutes early to drop off the food on the way to the gym, and every week those 15 minutes escape my grasp.

Last night I was determined to finally get rid of the food, so I was pushing my 5 year old (let’s call her Pumpkin) through the entire Get Ready process: instruct her to get dressed a half dozen times while she tells me about a dream and then spots a Lego set that she suddenly feels she needs to put together, suggest she take off her pants before putting on her leotard, tell her to find her shoes, rush her to the toilet when she suddenly realizes she has to use one, collect my laptop, find her water bottle and snacks, have an argument with Pumpkin about whether she’s going to wear a coat or sweatshirt, ask her to head to the car and load up, and finally (finally!) grab the bag of food on my way out the door.

After all this, it’s probably no surprise that we were running late again.

But I was determined! So I still stopped at the food bank, figured out where to deliver the food, and unloaded the bag. By the time we arrived at the gym, we were clearly the last to arrive and had to park as far away from the facility as possible. On our way there I feel like we’d had a running conversation about how we were going to be late, so I was dismayed when I opened Pumpkin’s door. “Why did you take your shoes off!?” I exclaimed. My daughter looked at me in horror and said, “I forgot my shoes!”

I was furious! Firstly, this is not the first time this has happened. The first time was only a few months ago when we were meeting some friends at the park. I had thought that that experience had scarred her enough that she wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Secondly, Pumpkin is getting too big to carry. Even a year ago, carrying her for a few minutes would end with me nursing a sore back for several days afterwards. And here I was with no better alternatives on a night when we were parked a mile away from the gym.

I did get her into the gym, and I sat and fumed about the situation, knowing that in 45 minutes I was due to carry her back to the car. I texted Hubby with the story, and he immediately shot back his amusement in response, which at first did not help. In terms of the Four Stages of an Event: I expected Pumpkin to have learned from a previous lesson and not leave the house without shoes, and I expected my husband to sympathize with me and not laugh about it. Both outcomes for this event were falling short of expectations, and I was not happy.

But then a friend joined me, and when I relayed the story to her, she also laughed. Between her and Hubby’s responses, I was able to reflect and see the humor in the situation. It is utterly ridiculous that Pumpkin crossed a cold garage floor with bare feet and didn’t think, “Huh, I’m not wearing shoes. I might need them.” It is also ridiculous that I constantly have so much going on I wouldn’t notice my child passing by me without shoes on her feet.

For “Step Five: Add Sugar,” the lesson I learned last night is that I can’t depend on an impulsive pre-schooler to notice whether she has shoes on her feet. I have always carried a spare set of clothes for her just in case, but now I’ve added an extra pair of shoes and a warm jacket to the stockpile in my car for the next time something like this happens.

When was the last time you found yourself mad at a situation that others around you found hilarious? Were you later able to see the humor? What lessons did you learn from the experience?