Living on the Edge

      So hero hottie, being rather bored at work and I think being just a touch ornery, was kicking his loose shoelace around while he walked rather than taking the time to bend down and tie it. One of his co-workers, had to stop him and state the obvious.

      "Man, your shoelace is untied."

      Hero hottie gave a devilish grinned, "I know. I just like living on the edge."

     

     Of course, he was just giving the guy a little bit of heck. Boredom at work often times leads to orneriness and kicking around loose shoelaces for hero hottie. But his tale, although it made me laugh because life as parents our ideas of living on the edge of life is vastly different than before kids, reminded me of a very traumatic childhood incident of mine. One I remember nearly every time I tie my shoes. How sad is that? Silly childhood hang-ups. 

     I was in fourth grade and quite grown up. (Fourth grade is almost the top of the food chain in elementary school, plus we got to do special events.) My school was built on a slight hill, half the grades were on the top of the hill and not connected to the actually school building instead all the classes opened into a outdoor courtyard. A long set of concrete stairs lead down to the younger grades. (Of course, they were luckier in the fact that they were right next to the playground and we lost precious time having to make the long trek across the entire school to reach the swings.) The main part of the school was enclosed in a large building, with the office and library on the top level and the cafeteria down a flight of stairs that was divided into three different sections. Go down five steps, turn, go down another five steps, turn and then walk down the last five steps. There was just enough room in the stairwell for single lines of students to pass each other. 

      One day as we were walking towards the narrow stairwell I noticed that my annoying shoelace was untied again. They were round laces and had a nasty habit of coming untied. But we were walking in our single file line and heading for lunch. I was not stopping the entire class to tie my shoe. I was a fourth grader! I was too cool to make the class wait for lunch while I tied my shoe. The shoelace flopped around as I walked, dangerously I'm guessing because suddenly at the top of the stairwell, the teacher stopped the impatient class and stared straight at me. 

      I swallowed nervously, shrinking under the accusing eyes of all my classmates. 

     "Christy, your shoe is untied." The teacher said, not meanly but seriously. I couldn't believe it though, she had stopped the entire class to tell everyone my shoe was untied like I was some little first grader. 

     "I know." I whispered, a slight squeak in my voice, "I was going to tie it when I got to lunch." 

     She shakes her head. "No. You need to tie it now. You might trip. You can't walk down those stairs with an untied shoe. Do you know how hurt you could get? Tie your shoe, we can't go until you do." 

      I felt the impatient stares of my classmates, kids that had never stopped the entire class on the way to lunch so they could tie their shoelace. With my face burning, I bent down and hurriedly tied that stupid round shoelace. Oh, why did she have to say that in front of the entire class? I felt so stupid.

     And that's why now when I have an untied shoe I hear my fourth grade teacher's voice. "Tie your shoe. You might trip."

     Hopefully, as I blog about my shoelace trauma I will relish the untied shoelace. I will live on the edge. I will let that annoying round shoelace flop around my shoe as I walk. And I won't hear my fourth grade teacher lecturing me in front of the entire class. 

     And then again, I would probably trip, land flat on my face and break my nose.

     Or maybe I'll just start wearing sandals...grin.