Saturday, March 19, 2011

Those pants are sneaky little buggers

I don’t know about you, but in my house sports uniforms and gear get lost all the time.  My daughters ripped jeans I try to throw away keep showing up, but the sports uniforms are like elusive endangered animals.  I feel the need sew in tracking devices.  I mean the kids wear these things weekly, I am so careful to wash them and hand them over gently, with strict instructions to put them someplace safe.  Apparently, they have hidden hands and feet.  No matter where the kids put them, they end up someplace else.

Today we had a scrimmage at 9:30 in the morning.  I am not going.  I don’t need to drag the 9 year old out of bed at the crack of dawn on Sat. to sit in the cold watching a scrimmage.  So Dad gets the job, and I figure he would want it.  When I ask him to get the gear out the night before, so they don’t have to scramble in the morning, he gets irritated.  Clearly, what do I know about these things.

So this morning as they are scrambling to find the gear, the words I told you so are on the tip of my tongue.  I don’t say it as I realize this will not find the missing pants and will only heighten dad’s fragile state.  I inquire as to the sights that have been searched thus far.  I realize waking me was a final and highly resisted option.

We cover, laundry, drawers, closet, as I get my robe on.  I go check my daughter’s dirty laundry, because you never know what’s in that basket, negative no pants.  I go downstairs doing a cursory re-check.  I hear the whole; I already checked there, blah blah blah. 

I make it down to the bowels of the house, better know as the basement where my son has chosen to dwell.  I look around.   He is sitting on his bed, his dad barking to just wear his black pants.  I stay calm, I get in my zone.  My keen eyesight allows me to scan quickly over the situation. I start to calculate in my mind, I go through the w’s, when, who, where, what the ……

I see the pile of cloths I gave him two days ago, on the shelf above his bed.  IT WAS A MIRACLE, a Christmas miracle.  There they where about a foot from the kids head. It’s always the last place you check.  Actually, it’s always the last place mom checks.

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