Broken Brooms, Toe squishing, heels, n more!

The boys just loved the game. It involved mom's beloved broom, a nameless stick, rope, three boys and a lot of pulling. But a broom can only take so much. After being used and abused in each and every grade 4 science class, it finally cracked. Right in front of us all, it snapped in half.

I gasped: MOM IS GOING TO KILL ME.

Now although I knew mom was going to feel saddened at her loss (the two seemed to have a weirdly strong, yet endearing connection), I was obviously exaggerating. I mean, I like to think that if she had to choose between me and her broom, she'd eventually decide on me. I hope.

But the kids seemed to take it to heart. A couple of them offered I stay at their place for a while, you know, until it was safe to return home. Another kid ran to the broom, searched for the price sticker, then happily informed me of the name of the supermarket, its affordable price, and suggested I pick one up on my way home.

The rest, however, were finding it extremely difficult to suppress their guffaws. Abdulaziz on the other hand, was fervently pleading I announce him new owner of the said snapped-in-half broom. Goodness knows for what. You know what, I really don't wanna know.

On a more positive note, I have discovered today the joy of leaping about the school hallways. I mean, running around the corridors has been my thing since day one. And while the hall ceilings are often filled with dangling bright decorations that prove irresistible to my boys, they did little to tempt me so far. But as I walked out of class today, hurrying to report to my playground duty, I was feeling a little more bubbly than usual. I unconsciously sprang up and managed to touch the light. The first thought to cross my mind? BOY is that fun or WHAT. There was no stopping me!

Suddenly, not only could I forgive my students for leaping circles around me in the hallways, I was competing with them neck-to-neck in this highly entertaining pastime. I just wish I had discovered this fountain of joy earlier. No matter, you can count on me making the best of what's left of the school year. Even better, in two weeks there would be no kids anymore. So those long wide corridors will be mine to conquer. Oh don't worry, the teachers already found peace with the fact that I'm incorrigibly, umm, weird?

Guess what. I just found out that the boys step on my feet an AWEFUL lot. I never noticed before. But yesterday I was wearing fairly new shoes that I didn't particularly want ruined, so I was more sensitive to any sudden painful strikes. You cannot imagine the rate of toe-squashing I suffer through on an average school day. Seriously, this can't be right. Those things must be included in your job description!! I've half a mind to blame the kids for my not-exactly-narrow feet. Lets just say they aren't improving on the situation!!

Moving on. I went shoe shopping with mom today. I needed to buy some comfy shoes. But all I found where glittery strapy shiny 5-inches long sandals that unconsciously made me cringe in pain at the mere sight of them. Seriously, women of the world, why oh why do you do that to yourselves?

I just got a sudden flashback of the one and only time I ventured to wear heels. Never again. Nope. Not me. It was for our high school graduation party. My dress was a bit long, so I thought what the heck I'll get heels. To make a painful and agonizingly torturous story short, at the end of the party I found myself on a chair outside the bathroom, with my heels kicked off cursing the hour I bought those devils. I wasn't alone.
My mobile rang and it was my dad telling me he was outside in the parking lot waiting for me. I called on every ounce of willpower I possessed and tried to slip them back in. I squealed in pain. Let's face it, it just wasn't going to happen.

And that is how I found myself, striding through the lobby of the Holiday Inn, bare-footed with my sandals in hands. I avoided eye-contact with the bellboy as I made my way to dad's car, still barefooted. I wasn't coming back here until I was 50, that was for sure.

A few months after that, I heard it closed down. I like to think I had something to do with their demise. I mean, barefooted guests prancing around in your lobby has to score high on the "Signs Your Five-Star Hotel is In for a Dip" list, no?

And that, my friends, is the history behind my not-so-discreet disdain for heels. Can you blame me?