I lose things. I put something down and less than a minute later, I have no idea where it is. This happens to me all the time. Yesterday, in fact, I was taking pictures for this post, put down the camera for ten seconds, and spent the next ten minutes hunting it down again. (It was in the kitchen, next to the stovetop. WHY???)
My daughter Sidrah loses things, too. I’m not sure if this is hereditary, because I have this hunch that she loses things with purpose.
Yesterday we picked Sidrah up from daycare and were handed a plastic bag with a toddler puzzle piece in it: the 7. I looked at the teacher questioningly. “We found that in her shoe,” Jen explained. “She was pulling at her shoe all day, and when we took it off, the seven was in there.”
Well, of course! Shoes make great hidey-holes for all kinds of treasures. She walked around in it all morning and I did not detect the giant 3D puzzle piece. It was the same zombie walk-and-run as usual.
Last night, we spent twenty minutes combing the house for her missing milk bottle. “Where did it go? Where’s your ba-ba?” I asked her in every room of the house. She lifts her hands up in her “I don’t know” gesture. Finally, we found the bottle in her sister’s room, pushed back into a chair. Sidrah made a beeline for it, gleefully exclaiming, “BA-BA! BA-BA!” until it was back at home in her mouth again.
I don’t know if this is a fun game for her, or if, like her mother, she’s just losing it.