Because, in His wisdom, He knew that we mommies would never be able to get it together suffuciently to become the wildly popular, internationally published, diva celebrities we so richly deserve to be.
Also? Because He knew I would find Jenny of Three Kid Circus so freaking funny.
“Keys!” I say, emphatically. “Daddy has keys…“ventures the boy. He’s quaking under the Eye Of Enraged Mother, but it’s a faux-quake. He cowers so well that we have nicknamed him Gollum. “Please. Get. Up. We. Need. To. GO.” I try again. Lamaze breathing hee hee hee hoo hoo hoo. At this point he bursts into noisy, cartoonish wailing, complete with thrown back head, gaping mouth and tears that project outwards from his eye sockets in visible dotted lines. “Waaaaaaaaah!”
Every time I ask, I get a different answer, ranging from stuffed in the fireplace to eaten by the dog. None of them lead to the keys. Late this evening, I finally found them. In the drawer of our entertainment center, behind all the DVDs. Because, yes, okay. That makes sense. TO A FREAKO.