Shouldn't there be a celebration?

You would think that after spending frantic, stressful moments looking for a shoe that when it was found there would be some great joy--or at least relief.

I suppose there is some relief that I found my son's shoe, but mostly I'm trying not to be embarassed that it was somehow stuck in a pair of paints that I kept moving around--and I totally missed it.

I'm not sure I have any great moral to this story. Perhaps I'm just a normal dad who loses things from time to time. You know what a mean?


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