Friday, November 12, 2010
Early this year, I bought my son his standard tennis replacement from Walmart - [then] size 5 Winnie the Pooh. In a few weeks, one foot went missing. I searched the entire house top to bottom - under beds, back of closets, behind the stove - washing machine - dryer, garbage bins, recycling, hampers, you name it. My husband insisted our son probably put it in the trash, which was picked up long before we noticed its absence. I didn't think this was possible as I had already learnt to check the trash for toys and whatnots. So for about nine months, I kept the remaining foot on the shoe rack in our mud room, fully expecting to come across it in time.
About a week ago, frustrated by growing clutter all around, I determinedly attacked the clutter hot spots. I came across the remaining tennis shoe and hesitantly threw it away. My son had long outgrew it, but I had hoped to donate the pair to a thrift shop for another little boy to enjoy. Then, I rolled the trash curbside for collection the next morning.
Literally the very next night, my son came running to me for help. He placed a toy too far back in one of those kitchen drawers and it fell behind the frame. No worries. I pulled out all the drawers to reach it. That's when I saw it...the other tennis shoe.