Oh boy. There’s a rumble in the jungle. I have been summoned by six year old JayJay, the unofficial mayor of our neighborhood.
Turns out a well thrown Nerf football has found its way into the higher branches of an unclimbable tree. A committee of about four boys has formed at the base of the tree to discuss the best way to get the ball down.
In my on going efforts to be the coolest Mom in the neighborhood, I take off my Birkenstock and toss it straight up to the football. The kids all stare with open mouths. They were so impressed at my aim, my agility, my determination.
I have three brothers who will testify to my athletic inability, and their testimony would not stand up in court next to a video of my shoe sailing through the air and hitting that football just as well as a laser guided gunshot.
The ball tumbled to the ground and into JayJay’s hands. The children cheered and I was their hero. Their shoe-less hero. My shoe had nestled neatly into the same spot the football once held.
“No problem,” I say to my adoring fans and I toss my other shoe up, because I am so sure that the universe is on my team and both shoes will fall neatly to the ground. Instead, my aim is no where close and now I have two shoes stuck in the tree.
I try to play it cool, but those are my Birkenstocks! My three year old, falling apart, Mother’s Day gift from my adoring husband Birkenstocks! I have tan lines on my feet that line up exactly with them. It’ll be years before I can convince myself to spend that much on a pair of shoes again. What was I thinking? I don’t even like half these kids! Why do I care what they think of me? (Okay, I do like them, but I was feeling some serious angst for my shoes.)
I knew that throwing something else up there was silly. It didn’t appear as though a broomstick would reach. I stood under that tree for a good ten minutes trying to come up with a plan.
While I was thinking, my twelve year old neighbor, Shelby, got out a stool and a broomstick. How smart is she? A stool! How blond am I? Duh! A stool.
With just a few well laid hits, my shoes were saved and I tried to play down the mist in my eyes.
I think I owe Shelby some cookies.