Yesterday afternoon, Cousin Cate and I went to an event that was raising awareness about the number of children in the world who are without shoes.  The idea was for various people from our community to walk a mile “in their shoes” — which, of course, meant we were to walk that mile completely barefoot.

Now, typically, this would not be that big of a deal but, as you’ll remember, our Cousin Cate has a broken ankle at the moment.

Actually, for clarification, it’s a fractured-something-something-something but she’s just calling it a broken ankle so she doesn’t have to explain it to everybody which is a good plan seeing as most of us probably couldn’t understand the name of whatever it is she fractured especially if she told us with that accent of hers.

I had thought CC would skip the event seeing as she can’t, you know, walk and all but she was ready and waiting when I showed up at her house.  We drove over to the event and dutifully removed our shoes, leaving them in the car before bunny hopping walking over to where the event began.  We ran into various representatives from other community groups and churches that we partner with for Starlite and, as we talked to each person, they commented on CC’s dedication to still participate even with her injury.  Ever the humble girl, CC would just reply that it was “all for the children,” bless her little heart.

We decided to stay at the end of the group of walkers seeing as we might need some extra time to bunny hop walk our way through the designated path.  We had made it about 1/20th of the way when our darling CC began remarking that perhaps attempting to walk a mile with a fractured-something-something-something wasn’t the best idea.  I can’t remember her exact phrasing, but I think it sounded a little something like:

“WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?” Bunny hop, bunny hop.

I reminded her that it was, of course, all for the children because I just like to be helpful and all.

After a couple more bunny hops, it became apparent that we needed to find a spot to sit down and stat.  And then, in the distance, we spotted a little piece of heaven on Earth:

That’s right: there was a frozen yogurt place nearby.

Now, I realize that we were supposed to be bunny hopping walking for the children and I also realize that we were, you know, barefoot and all but?  HELLO, IT WAS A SIGN AND WE DO NOT IGNORE FROZEN YOGURT SIGNS.

Three minutes later, we were back on the path, this time bunny hopping our way backwards in an attempt  to get back to the starting line so we could leave our mile-long aspirations behind us.  I can only imagine what was running through the event organizer’s minds when they saw the last two participants returning first, each with an afternoon treat of frozen yogurt in their hands.  I wanted to tell them that, in our defense, we had remained barefoot as said frozen yogurt was selected, paid for and consumed but I somehow felt like they might think our commitment to the event wasn’t sincere or something ridiculous like that.

Oh well.  There’s always next year.

You better believe we’ll be back, bunny hopping our way towards the nearest frozen yogurt store.