I don’t lose my keys. That is more my husband’s domain.
This morning when it was time to take Grace to school and I couldn’t find mine. Danny’s were sitting on the key hook so I grabbed those and took them.
I said to him, “I can’t find my keys.”
And he smiled and said “Oh, I wonder what you did with them.” With a smile…the smile that says “Ha, you do it too!”
When I got home from taking Grace I asked Owen (who was a sickie on the couch) if he played with my keys, he said “yes”. I asked where he put them. Smiling he says “wouldn’t it be funny if they were in the big garbage can?” (this is what he calls garbage trucks).
Oddly, I said that wasn’t funny and to get up and help me find them.
So I made my pukey little boy look around in the toy room for my keys. He wasn’t much help, the problem was that he kept saying that he’d played with them or spots where they were, but then they weren’t there.
He did nothing to help his cause.
I finally put him back on the couch and promptly had a memory…
My sweet husband, who was peacefully sleeping upstairs since he is working nights, had used my keys yesterday to put his car in the garage. That is the last time I saw them.
When he woke up I asked him about it and he said “Oh, they’re probably in a pair of my pants upstairs.”
I reminded him of his comment about “what I had done with them” and he just smiled.
My keys are back on the key hook…