Our Version of WHERE'S WALDO

I promised my s-i-l (one of them) that I'd tell you our latest past time here at the troops.

It's a game.

Well. If running panicked through the house while yelling and frantically searching IS a game. . .

We'll just call it a game just to remind us to laugh now and then.

About five hundred (or thousand) times a day, I call out, "Guys! Hey! Everybody! WHERE IS LITTLE MAN?"

Without fail, my paranoid screech is responded to in one of two ways.

1. "Right here, Mom. It's OK. I've got him."

or (the less preferred response, I'll admit, and the much more frequent one)

2. "I dunno." "I dunno." "I haven't seen him."

Then the frantic craziness ensues.

We always find him. Usually not in the same place. Unless he's done something wrong, in which case you can find him under the end table in the living room (now you know). But other than that, he's usually doing something "interesting" in another room. Could be it has to do with water. Or the toilet. Markers are a favorite. Candles are tempting (last week he figured out putting bits of torn paper in the candles starts fires. Lovely.). Or there is always the garage fridge!

So who's up for a rousing round of "WHERE IS LITTLE MAN"?

Speaking of . . . it's awfully quiet. . .