A Letter to My Expensive Sunglasses (RIP)

Dear Maui Jim’s,

I remember when we first met back in 2010. It was the first day of our Maui vacation and I was on my way to the beach. I wasn’t looking to buy anything that day, but there you were, just sitting on the shelf of a small sunglasses kiosk at the Sheraton with your polarized lenses reflecting back at me. I was instantly mesmerized and walked up to you. I lifted you up gently, put you on, and you fit perfectly. Don’t tell my wife, but there was instant chemistry. You know it. I know it.

That day, I vowed to take care of you.

One hundred dollars was—and still is—a significant amount of money but I knew you were worth every penny. I don’t usually spend my cash willy-nilly, but you were a gift to myself that day. Before our introduction, I was careless, reckless, and negligent. That all stopped cold turkey when I walked out the door with you on my face. There was no way I would let anything happen to you.

The next five years were good times. We were connected every single day the sun was out. I would wear you, wipe you, and fold you. Then, I’d make sure to keep you safe in your case at night. I knew you were happy because there was never a scratch on your lenses. You slowly became a part of me. You were my Instagram filter before Instagram was even a thing.

But that all changed.

I knew you had your hesitations when our first baby came into the house. I should have listened to you then, but I was so absorbed. I knew you were worried when the baby started crawling, but I was so consumed. I knew your anxiety was through the roof when the baby started walking, but I didn’t see it coming.

And that’s when it all happened.

I shouldn’t have left you unattended on the TV stand. I walked away for just a second, and when I turned around, the baby was holding you in her tiny hands. My screams weren’t enough. I took two steps towards you but it was already too late. The baby, with her superhuman baby strength, hulk smashed you into pieces. I could barely watch. It was so brutal. So barbarous. So sudden.

For this, I’m sorry.

I know you’re lying still and broken in your protective case right now, but if you can hear me, just know you’re better off there. There is a new baby in the house and you can’t be seen—I won’t make the same mistake twice. I just hope one day, I can fix all of this and you can forgive me.

Your apologetic friend,


Have you ever had a tiny human hulk smash a personal item? Comment and tell me about it! Be sure to follow the shenanigans on FacebookInstagram, and Pinterest. You can email me directly to say hello too! 

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