We have a thief in the house. Or maybe elves. Possibly both.
Tuesday afternoon, I finished my workout and collapsed on my bed for 30 minutes of “Friends” (I can’t quit them) before nap time ended. When I was done, I clicked the remote off and left it on my bed.
That night when I returned to my Happy Place, the remote was gone.
We searched high and low, tore the covers apart, went through the closets, the drawers, the pantry… Because we all know it’s entirely possibly I walked out of my room, remote in hand, lost my mind, and put the dang thing in the freezer.
Alas, I did not.
For three days, we looked for the remote every chance we got. My house was thoroughly cleaned the day after it went missing and yet the little black box never appeared. I made myself crazy scrounging through toy boxes and couch cushions, begging the kids to tell me where they hid it. They all claimed they didn’t touch it.
I kvetched and moaned about the loss of my little security blanket until I could get to Wal-mart and replace it. In the end, I had to actually order it online and am still waiting for Precious to return to me. In the meantime, I’m going all Laura Ingalls Wilder and getting Up Out Of The Bed to adjust the volume.
So this morning, the remote to the living room TV went missing. I searched for a bit before I realized my left eye was twitching and I needed to Walk Away from the Crazy. Tonight, before the kids had their evening TV, I insisted they find the remote, certain they’d locate it.
We looked upstairs, downstairs, dug through the library books, checked out the dust bunnies under the piano…
What’s weird is that in both cases, it was the little black TV remote, not the one to the cable box. And they’ve both just POOF disappeared.
Our best guess? Finn is putting them into the trash without us noticing. We do occasionally pull a favorite toy or book of his out of the trash can, but I’ve never seen him holding the remotes so it’s bizarre to think he took the remotes AND tossed them into his “toy box.” Of course, we never realize they’re well and truly missing until the trash has long since been taken out to the big cans.
I’ve figured out that a baby of the family isn’t spoiled so much as he knows how to work the system. He recognizes that we are utterly distracted and therefore too addled to notice that he’s absconded with the trash can and its contents into the master closet. Or that he’s tucked his favorite ball into the fireplace for safe keeping. He can hide his trucks in the pantry because I’ll be too busy hunting the remote control under the couch.
It’s a delightful little game of hide and seek to him. He hides All The Things. We seek. He finds something mischievous to do while we’re seeking.
Or there’s always my theory about the elves. In our house? That’s entirely possible, too…