Earlier in the spring, I bought a plastic canister of water balloons for the girls. It was April, nowhere near warm enough to break them out yet, so I hid the canister to prevent the girls from incessantly asking to play with them.
Now it's warm. I had forgotten all about the balloons until Reese wanted to play "water fun."
I've searched the garage. I've searched the basement. I've searched the shed.
Those balloons are so well hidden that not even I can find them. I'm starting to question whether I actually bought them, or whether I just thought about buying and hiding them. Was this some sort of exhausting yet vivid dream in which I dragged all the children to Wal-Mart for a typical grocery run when we inadvertently ended up in the toy section and I deflected requests for yet another Zooble with an equally firm barrage of no's, or was this real life?
It's so hard to tell at this point.
Normally I'm a I'm a person who knows where things are. My family relies on this.
Where are my shoes? One's on the steps; the other's under the kitchen table.
Have you seen my cell phone? It's on top of the computer desk.
I can't find my floppy puppy. Look on the bathroom sink.
I'm usually spot-on, which is why this balloon disappearance is so frustrating.
Who helps the mommy when she misplaces things?
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