Our 4-year-old is big into his art projects of late. In fact, he felt compelled to create his latest masterwork just this morning, as we were trying to get ready to leave the house.
Great timing, that.
Anyway, he crafted his vision — which today, consisted of an assortment of stickers slathered on red construction paper — and asked permission to photocopy it on our all-in-one machine on the downstairs computer. Don’t ask why he wanted to do that. It’s one of the great mysteries of life.
Anyway, we dutifully traipsed downstairs, made the copy, and started back upstairs. Then he noticed it.
“Oh, no!” he said. “It’s gone!”
Indeed, there was a blank spot, right in the middle of the star sticker trail he’d fashioned on his project.
So, we started searching for the missing star. On the floor, near the downstairs computer, on the stairs leading back upstairs.
Then, a few minutes later, came the good news. “Hey, Dad! I found it! I found the star!”
“Great,” I said. “Where was it.”
“Oh,” he said nonchalantly. “It was on my pants.”
Of course it was. That’s where all my missing stuff goes. If I just looked on my pants, I’d probably find a whole lot of missing things.
And to think, I’ve been looking IN my pants (the pockets, I mean) all this time.
That Dad 