Wednesday, March 3, 2010
An Open Letter to the Maker of Her Ruby Slippers
Dear Ruby Slippers;
Today marked the end of an era. I know, I know - as much as you'd rather be slipped on the precious tootsies of my little one, your days were numbered. You've served us well, dear Ruby Slippers. But my little one just can't have your broken -strapped , scraped - glitter, sand-filled , leather-soled goodness anymore. Sadly, you are relegated to the land-fill of Ick after years of frolicking in the land of Oz.
She clicked your heels three times and repeated the lines "I want to go home" over and over again, but you remained tattered and tired.
Gone are the days of innocence when mommy could just walk into Target and get another pair of you. And just so you know - you folks at Target ...they are RUBY slippers and are meant to be festooned with (if not actual rubies or) red sequins and have real heels that make that clicky sound when you walk down the Yellow Brick Road of life. NOT the cheezy pink glitter ballet flats with stapled elastic straps that make squishy air sounds as you run towards the combo Starbucks-Pizza Hut in the front of the super-store that you guys are trying to pass off as the real thing. If you need a copy of the movie, go to aisle 16 and you'll find it. Just sayin'.
She's crushed, but she'll muddle through. I don't know about mom, though.