the golden shoes

Earlier in the year my mom bought Zooey some adorable gold jelly sandals. I liked them because they were easier to get on and off than sneakers, and they just seemed nicer for summer. Sneakers suck in summer. Especially if you’re one and don’t like shoes to begin with.

The problem was, she figured out how to unsnap them and get them off. Or, at least one of them. We were shopping at Target a few weeks ago, and I looked down to see one shoe, and one bare foot. I retraced our path through the store, through housewares and makeup and the aisle with exercise stuff (but not the running armband that fits my droid, dammit) all the way back to the dollar spot. Nothing. Then I retraced my steps forward again. Nothing. Before I left, I even asked at the customer service counter, but they did not have the shoe.  I was kind of sad.

The next time I was at Target, a few days later, I asked again at the desk before I headed out. I figured maybe someone found it at night when they were cleaning up or something. Sure enough, the girl came back to the counter with a little sandal. Yay! I thanked her, and took the shoe, and as soon as I grabbed it, something seemed wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I didn’t think it was the right shoe.

When I got home, I took a closer look. It was the right color, the right brand, the right size. I grabbed the other shoe to complete the set.

They even made a left and right pair, but they were NOT the same shoe.

Somewhere in my town, there is another little girl who lost her gold jelly sandal at Target some time in between when Zooey lost hers, and when I went back to ask about the shoe. When that little girl’s mom went to the counter to ask about the lost and found, they had a size 12-18 months Old Navy gold jelly sandal just waiting there to be picked up. And that little girl is probably running around in mismatched sandals, too. I mean, why waste a perfectly good pair of shoes just because they’re, you know, not actually a pair?