One of my shoes is sitting on the kitchen counter right now. I don't really know how it got there, or where the mate to it is. We have a big problem in our house keeping pairs of shoes together, mainly (I think) because Claire loves "yoos" and has to take off her own shoes the moment she sees someone else's shoes, so she can put theirs on and walk around in them. Somehow in that process, shoes often end up separated from their mates by a matter of rooms or even floors.
It's one of those many mysteries that strike homes with small children. How do things wind up in such strange places? On the ledge by the stairs, I found a paper plate lion mask, one of my shoes (not the mate to the one on the kitchen counter), and a single baby sock.
The single baby sock shouldn't be such a surprise, since socks (like shoes) often seem to flee from their mates. My advice for new moms out there: choose one style of baby sock, and buy ONLY that one. Save yourself the task of matching them all up, because it is an exercise in frustration. Here are five mateless socks out of one basket of Claire's clean laundry.
I saw a friend's Facebook status the other day listing the items found when cleaning out her minivan: three pairs of underwear, seven (non-matching) gloves and mittens, and two dreidls (though they are not Jewish). Makes me feel a little less strange for having a baby doll belted into our backseat next to a giant snowman (in April). I did not photograph the collection of hair things, jackets, and plastic Easter eggs on the floor. I heard Honda is coming out with a van that has a central vacuum—yes, please!!
I guess it's a misnomer to call all these things "mysteries" when the answer is typically a simple four-letter word: KIDS. They do weird things. And we have to do weird things because of them. Are you ready for this one?
We now keep our band-aids in a locked, fireproof box along with our passports and social security cards.
Why? Because Kate is obsessed with band-aids and will do anything to get them. She'll whine about a teeny bump on her leg in hopes that it will merit a band-aid. If we remind her that band-aids are for things that bleed, she might even go so far as to pick a scab to make it bleed! And if we leave them anywhere she can reach it, she'll raid the box after bedtime and cover her legs in a dozen bandages.
So naturally, I put them out of reach. Or what I thought was out of reach.
One night I came upstairs when she was supposed to be in bed and found this:
And that's how our band-aids came to be stored in a top-secret bunker.
What strange things have you discovered in your house lately?