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Retiring – again – as the finder of lost objects

Submitted by on Tuesday, 15 March 2011 One Comment

For want of a sock, the soccer game was lost.

Technically, I don’t know that the game was lost. I do know, though, that Boots was lost to the game after he decided to sit on the floor and cry rather than get ready to go. I don’t blame him for trying – in the one-parent days I would have huffed, puffed and retrieved the missing item. Now that there are two parents again, I could walk without punishing the non-tantruming sibling. And I did.

“I just. can’t. find. it,” Boots wailed, even though I’d hinted 45 minutes earlier that he should check the hall closet for his missing blue sock.

“You have three choices,” I said. “You can look for the sock. You can get another sock out of your drawer – you have a blue one from last year that will work. Or you can miss the game. It’s almost time to leave.”

After a bit of nastiness and name-calling – it seems it was all my fault the sock was gone, even though I swore to him that I hadn’t been wearing his socks – he picked Door No. 3.

It’s a long-running game with both of them, but Boots is the worst offender. Big Guy will at least attempt to put his gear in the vicinity of where it’s supposed to be, though it’s more likely to be flung in the floor of the coat closet than it is to be deposited in his gym bags. Boots, on the other hand, will move his stuff from room to room under the theory of “out of sight, out of mind.”  Sometimes he’ll take something all the way to the top of the stairs and drop it, rather than taking two additional steps and putting it in his dresser. If he puts it where I can’t see it, he assumes I’ll forget I told him to put it away.

Except he usually forgets where he’s put it. That’s what happened Saturday morning with the sock.

“I just. can’t. find. it,” Boots wept. It was the type of performance that inspired Dad to say recently that he’s more Harry Pouter than Harry Potter.

“I’m sorry,  babes, but it’s time to go. I can’t make Big Guy late for his game because you’re not ready.” I’ll admit to feeling a few pangs as I saw him flop despondently on the floor just before the door closed.

It was needless guilt. A few minutes after Big Guy’s game started my phone rang. It was Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows.

“Mommy! I founded my sock! It was in the closet. I put it in the bag now so I’ll never have to find it again. I’m sorry I was ugly.”

I’m happy that you figured it all out, I thought. And I hope you remember it come time for the next game.

Copyright 2011 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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