Little white socks and I laughed

I had a funny experience today. Preface this by saying that I enjoy a good laugh and often get one at work – am fortunate enough to work with people who have a well-developed sense of silly too. They are either very earnest and either into some techie, policy, modeling, literature reviewing thing, or they are clowning around and telling absurd jokes and joining in on something ridiculous. For example, the other week Teapea stopped mid step to literally fall on the floor in a great show of comic clowning to demonstrate shock when I offered to make my podmates coffee – making the point that this is not something I do all that often. People in the adjacent pod saw him fall and thought it was some disastrous medical situation and expressed much concern. This afternoon featured Chickpea, Twentypea and I indulging in some spontaneous, and completely innapropriate Little Brittain episode reminiscing and reciting of favourite lines. But anyways, that wasn’t my actual story.

No the actual story involved me today at lunch-time going out for a quick walk down the road (for ‘fresh air’ if you can call it that when you work in the CBD). There were many good reasons for not going out – drizzle, had brought my own lunch, had a squillion things to do, but sometimes a mid day quick break with good chat and swift steps does help to wake you up. So there I am swiftly stepping, chatting and there in front of me is a small child (5?) and his mum and some of her friends, all swift stepping too. But not actually as swiftly as me it seems. I realised that just as my swinging right foot connected with something softish in front of me. Was that the small childs foot? I think to myself, just as I look down and see a little white socked foot swing forward. I think ‘no.. that can’t have been his actual shoe that I just stepped on – it can’t have just pulled right off??’ I look backwards and there is a tiny little sneaker. The boy realises shortly after I do, and turns back, we are joined in a huddle looking down, with me saying ‘oh sweetie – your shoe’ and him reaching for it and then in staged ripples a wave of people in front of us stop and turn around, or keep walking but turn and stare as they walk. I apologise and keep walking after I know he is putting the shoe on and I see his baffled and cross looking mother moving to join him. I feel like some kind of horrible person who has deliberately just de-shoed her son on George Street. I meet up with my friend who says ‘did you just…?’ And I snort with suppressed giggles, quite inappropriately, and we both walk away shaking with laughter. And every time since that I see that little white socked foot and remember that absurd, surrealist moment of realizing the shoe has been set free and is now behind us, and the child looking as confused as me - I have to try not to giggle. All the while realizing that it is not really at all funny, not really the type of thing one should find funny. All the while giggling.