Momnesia

Communication is the Key...

Scott lost his keys today...

"I think Emmie had them last," he said.
"Blame it on the three-year-old," I teased.

Emmie had been messing around on the piano yesterday. But they weren't under the keyboard cover, or under any of the furniture, or in her toyboxes, or in her shoe holder, or in the kitchen, or the laundry, or in the bed covers, or under the beds... We looked everywhere. But after about a hour of this foolishness, I called the preschool. Surely the majority of the parents there are infinitely more responsible than we are. They have extra sets of keys, and tracking devices, and... schedules and calendars and stuff like that. We only have the "Honey have you seen my keys" method of tracking, and the "Do we have plans this weekend?" "I dunno... do we?" method of scheduling.

"Hi, mama! I play wit my friends," Emerson chirped.
"That sounds like fun! Now, mommy has something important to ask you. Are you listening very carefully?" I asked. "You 'nember when you playing with daddy's keys?"
"Uh-huh!"
"Do you 'nember where you put them?"
"Hmm.. I put dem somewhere..." she mused.
"I need you to think very hard, sweetie."
"Yeth, I put them in da piano!"

I relayed this information to Scott, and we looked carefully, opening everything that moved on the 100-year-old contraption. Nothing.

"Honey, are you sure you put them in the piano?"
"Yeth, I put them in da piano, and den I hide dem."

No Crap.

"But where did you hide them, sweetie?"
"In da piano."
"Where else could they be, darling?"
"I put dem somewhere..."
"After you played with them at the piano, where else did you play with them?"
"I not!"
"Sweetie, there's nothing wrong. We just need to find them."
"I put dem somewhere..."
"Yes, but where? You were playing at the piano, and then where did you go?"
"I go to da laundry, and den to da toilet."

Yet after tearing the house apart - and debating whether or not to call a plumber - we find no keys. Scott calls work for the spare set. I go on, finish my day, and pick up Emmie from Nona's house. Though it has been 10 hours since our discussion and I have not mentioned the keys to her again, when we get home she goes straight to the piano...

...and pulls out the damn keys.