If you've read my Crunchy Moms material, you've probably noticed I'm organized. I can't claim perfection, but generally the toys return to their respective boxes and bins each night. I like my crayons in rainbow order in the box, thank you very much. But, with two small children, I've let some of that go. Markers with incorrect caps and PlayDoh colors mixed together! Sigh, sometimes its inevitable.
I'm proud to tell my family an item's location, whether its in its proper home or not. (Oh, your dinosaur slippers? One is under the foot of your sister's bed and the other inside the toy oven). Typically, items are merely misplaced temporarily, but every so often something disappears.
I'll know the item is inside the house, but can't locate it. How can we lose a solid object in an inclosed space? Is that scientifically possible? The kids are only three feet tall; that should limit possibilities. Yet, somehow, it happens. The 2010 barrette search and 2011 sunglasses fiasco are infamous household examples. (Quite honestly, I occasionally look for those sunglasses purely our of defiance).
Most recently our 2" Twilight Sparkle disappeared. One minute, Twi's piloting the Little People plane. Then -- GONE. Even after my Brony son stopped making Spike say, "Where's Twilight? I'm sad," and began playing with Han and Chewy, I remained on a mission to find that damn toy! Instead of emptying the dishwasher or planning meals, Twilight's mysterious disappearance occupied my mind.
Once I checked the obvious locations, I tried stranger possibilities: Inside shoes, under the baseboard heat, behind the blinds, inside Mr Potato Head. Of course, I checked all the bookcases; this is Twilight Sparkle after all.
Could she be out in the trash, frozen in spaghetti sauce like liquid carbonite? Flushed down the toilet? Melted into a purple drizzle down the pipes of the heat? The only thing I knew for certain was no living creature in our home swallowed her.
Stuck home for three days, I couldn't escape the quest for Twilight. I became concerned that if I was home bound much longer, I'd start checking obscure and crazy locations such as deep inside the PlayDoh canisters or the little box in the basement -- Wait, are the cats conspiring against me? They sit around during nap time smugly blinking at me. Was Twilight batted down the stairs and her paint chewed off as a cat pommeled her with hind paws?
After a week, I fought off the compulsion to interrupt the trash collection a la Tom Hanks' neighbors in The Burbs. But, my neighbor did accuse me of opening a police investigation when she spied a car patrolling my street.
The spell accio would work, right? Unless, Twilight's unicorn magic made her disappear. Maybe Twilight needed a vacation from being clutched in tiny, hot hands. Maybe she couldn't handle my children fighting over her anymore. Or maybe she was piloting Oceanic Flight 815 and now she is lost on an island ...
After two weeks, Twilight Sparkle returned. Its true: No living creature swallowed her; a toy did. While changing the batteries of my daughter's purple Twilight Turtle (coincidence? I think not!), my husband lifted the fabric flap to the battery compartment. From the surprise on his face, and rattling, I knew Twilight was found! Swallowed by a toy turtle, she survived thirteen days in the belly of the beast.
Now, my hope for finding those sunglasses is renewed.
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