Yesterday afternoon, I was on a mission to find Darth Vader's missing helmet. I started in Gabe's room and then moved to the landing where Gabe keeps all of Al's vintage Star Wars toys. (By the way, I'm REALLY hoping Ada didn't eat the helmet, but that's another entry for another day.) As I was sitting on the landing, putting toys away, I turned around and noticed my very expensive, very cool, favorite-of-all-favorites pottery vase sitting on a bunch of books next to the piano.
I had one of those confused moments.
Who put it there? It was supposed to be in my bedroom on the dresser with all of my other very cool pottery pieces (I'm a pottery nut, by the way.) There was no way I moved it and forgot, unless the experts are right about pregnancy - that it creates memory and concentration problems, which meansI truly am losing my mind.
I carried it downstairs and asked Gabe, who was camped out on the couch, if he knew how it got up there.
"I did that," he said, too young to know that this was probably a good time to lie.
"You carried it up there all by yourself?" I asked. "Why did you do that?"
"I put my Star Wars light sabers and guns in it," he told me, just as honestly.
This is the point where I shuddered as I pictured a 3-year-old hauling a very fragile piece of art up a flight of stairs in his chubby little hands.
"OK, Gabe," I tried to gently reprimand him, "You know that all of Mommy's things need to stay in Mommy's room. You can't touch those things."
But on a plus side, I am NOT losing my mind, and our house ISN'T haunted.
And something tells me this is just the beginning ...
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