Scavenger Hunt

I apologize for my unannounced absence these past days.  Sometimes being a mom takes us on a multitude of scavenger hunts.

I can’t say the time was purely wasted. I served my family in many ways and found many rewards – hence the scavenger hunt.

But I must say the most interesting scavenger hunt came just a few days ago. I love the little quirks of my family.

My three-year-old daughter found my husband’s motorcycle keys laying on our dresser. She said, “Papa can I play with these?”

In which my husband replied. “Sure, just don’t lose them.”

Now being a mother, and a wife, there are times when you just give your spouse that look. The look that says, “are you crazy?” But, being a good wife, you remain silent, thinking for a moment that your spouse is indeed sane and knows what they’re getting themselves into.

Wrong!

Having the hubby home with the kids, I fully took advantage and ran to do all my errands. I never thought about the keys again. As a rule in our house, the kids know not to touch Momma’s keys.

So I would imagine that my hubby would have kept an eye on our three-year-old and as soon as she put the keys down, scoped them up and put them in a safe place.

Wrong again.

That evening, as we prepared wee ones for bed, my hubby says to my three-year-old. “Where are my keys?”

As sweet and innocent appearing as a three-year-old can be, my baby replies,”I don’t know.”

My husband appeared if he would shake our three-year-old, but instead he got down to her level and said,” I need my keys. Can you show me where you put them?”

So thus the scavenger hunt began. My three-year-old lead us to every room in the house. She truly didn’t know where she left them.  My husband was cringing. He needed his motorcycle the next day.

What was supposed to be a peaceful evening turned out to be a scavenger hunt. We tossed pillows, looked in the living room, under the couch, behind the television, and under the rug. We scavenged the dining room to no avail. Then we trudged down into the playroom. If the keys were there it would take a decade to sort through all the toys. We searched the play oven, the drawers in the table, shelves and on countertops. Sign…no keys.

So we grabbed our flashlights and headed outside. We searched the little tyke playhouse, around the swing set and the picnic table. No keys.

Exhausted we went to bed.

The next day when my oldest daughter woke up she asked what we were doing that day. “Finding Papa’s keys.” I told her. Less than fifteen minutes later she came and handed me a set of keys.

They were in the playroom in the cup holder of a camping chair that we often sit in to watch tv. Lol… the scavenger hunt had ended, and thus so has my absence.