Dora vs the squirrels.
posted on: 01:23 PM October 11, 2007
My blog icon is Dora, which is extremely appropriate today. Although my hair is not styled in such a geometric fashion, Dora and I have a lot in common. We are both brown eyed brunettes. We can both count to ten in Spanish. We are both unwittingly thrust into adventures on a daily basis. She hides things from Swiper, I hide things from my children. Oh, but they also hide things from me. Which brings me to the point of my post today.
My children are squirrels. They will take odds and ends, their crafts, mommy's belongings, sometimes food; and hide them away never to be seen again. OK, maybe they get seen again but not until much later, certainly long after the item in question was reported missing.
For example, on the odd days that a ponytail just won't do, I use velcro rollers in my hair. (another way to avoid the Dora triangulation). I keep these zipped up in a large makeup bag in my bathroom vanity. Imagine my surprise this week when I found one in the toybox and one among my folded laundry.
Then, lets not forget today, when I had my hands full of recycling to take to the garage. As I went to put on my slippers and head out, I noticed an obstruction. A Hot Wheels car parked in its depths.
And of course, I cannot fail to mention the half eaten Hawaiian doughnut that my husband found nestled between the cushions of our leather couch.
But perhaps the most poignant example of squirrelsmanship is this one. I recently joined a fitness class. On my first day, I had it all planned out. Drop daughter at school, drop son at preschool, go to class, possibly drop dead of exertion etc. It was going to be a full day.
I had the kids ready to go out the door, and had my gym backpack ready with my towel, water and emergency lipstick. As we were in hallway ready to leave, I ran upstairs to grab something else I had forgotten. Got everything? Check. Got all the little people? Check. We get in the car and go.
Later, I'm at my cardio from hell class and we have a bit of a break. I head over to my backpack, chug my water and reach for my towel. My towel....where is it? I could have sworn I put it in my backpack.? I ended up wiping my brow and face as best I could with my hands and rejoined the class, all the while berating myself for forgetting it at home.
Later that week, when I checked my son's preschool backpack, what do you think I found? His emergency change of clothes and one fluffy white and slightly askew hand towel.
See what I mean?