Several nights ago it was half past a glass of Cupcake and I had fed, bathed, and clothed my children. That's me -- I am Maslow. I meet their hierarchy of needs: food, shelter, clothing. I am mom of the year. No denying it. Please go ahead and monogram my award. Yes, in the South we do not engrave....we monogram. Amen. Anyhoo, I had my glass of Cupcake and the spawn were clean as a whistle and ready for bed. And I did my normal sweet heavenly night time routine. I stood at the stairs and ever so delicately yelled from the bottom step: "Spawn of mine? Birthed from my womb? Come hither."
And of course, they didn't. So I had to tramps up the stairs to find them eating soap and coloring on my bathroom walls. I completely normal event in all American homes. But when we did the count off of spawn - we were one short. ONE SHORT. One man was left behind - well NOT ON MY WATCH! NOT ON MY WATCH! (and it is a lovely Skagen silver mesh watch - darling if I do say so myself).
So we began our search:
Under the bed? Nope.
Behind the toilet? Nada.
In the flower beds? Empty.
Out in the street riding his bike in his skivvies? BINGO!Yes, that is how we roll.I know there are many angles we can take her -- but may I please point out...
That he was bathed, fed, and clothed.....