The Tale of the Golden Pineapple...

I learned a heartbreaking lesson last week. One that will continue to haunt me for days, weeks, possibly even years to come. It was a silly mistake. Ridiculous, really. I'm shocked at myself because I never thought I would do something like this. 

One must never, ever ever EVER walk away from a golden pineapple at Home Goods. 

Strolling through the aisles crammed with chochkies and knick-knacks with my two youngest children, I had an original purpose of my trip. Some organizational items were needed, and I wanted to check out the bedding. Everyone knows that even if one has a purpose going to Home Goods, a quick peek through the aisles is essential. I walk by some shelves that appear to be dedicated to the gold theme, a theme I love very much. Something catches my eye more than everything else... there, sitting beautifully, is an 18 inch gleaming ray of randomness: a golden pineapple. Why would I want an 18 inch golden pineapple, one may ask? Why wouldn't I want an 18 inch golden pineapple is the real question. I pick it up, survey the beauty, and put it back down, thinking to myself, "I'll think about it and grab it if I don't buy a million other things." Yes, I know. Why not just put it in my cart? Well because I had two munchkins in my cart and space just really wasn't on my side. Terrible excuse. Given the fact that there were two of them sitting there, I walked away with confidence. 

Just a mere five minutes later I return to the shelf, tsking myself for even questioning the necessity of the purchase. Confused when I don't see it immediately, my heart begins to race. My eyes start darting around, praying that it was just in the wrong spot or I was mistaken as to the location. There were two sitting there. Now there are none. Starting to get frantic, I take eight additional tours of the store, recruiting both Layla and Livi to be on the lookout. I even ask the checkout woman if she had recently rung up a golden pineapple. "No," she says. She directs me to the probable location and and my heart sinks deeper as it is exactly where I just was. My children hear the panic in mommy's voice and become increasingly upset about our missing piece of happiness. "Are they twins?" a kind lady asks the question I get at least 10 times when I take them out of the house. I mumble my typical response, "No just really close in age," as my eyes continue to search past the curious stranger. 

After two more loops around the store, I catch sight of something in a woman's overheaping cart. There, under pillows, food canisters, and whatever else people with no soul buy at Home Goods, were BOTH of the golden pineapples. I just don't understand. Who is so selfish that they need TWO golden pineapples? My heart sank. I informed Livi and Layla that their detective eyes were no longer needed. Our mission was over and we failed. The golden pineapple was not to be ours. More upset than when our fish died, the girls tried to comfort me and each other. With our heads hanging, we checked out and left the store. 

Now at home, all I see is places that the golden pineapple would have flourished. I don't know if anything will truly be able to replace it. I'm sure I will try... but I'm not optimistic. I will forever try to use this as a learning experience and hope you will too. 

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