I've been
asking myself the same questions, numerous times over the last several
months. "Where on earth did I put
that thing last?" "Why can't I
seem to find it anywhere?" Of course, I'm referring to objects around the
house - and a rather vast range of objects, at that - when I ask these
questions. Objects such as the egg
whisk, some pieces of one of little madam's puzzles, bottles of rather
expensive, nice-smelling hair product from the bathroom cupboard, soft toys,
blocks...the list goes on. And, as you
can see, quite a list it is.
Interestingly
enough, although I've had the sense to turn the house upside down in my quest
to find the various missing objects, I lacked the sense - for some reason or
another - to look in the one place little man, over the last several months,
has shown quite a fondness for. No. I'm
not talking about the toilet, for those who read my very first post titled,
"The Mysterious Case of the Disappearing Handset." Thankfully, little man's obsession with the
toilet seems to have died off recently.
And what a relief this is, too.
After all, as a walking - or should I say, running - and constantly on
-the-go busy little eighteen-month-old, he can get his hands on a lot more
things than the telephone handset these days.
Which brings me back to the original point of my story.
As I was saying, the one place I'd
forgotten to look, in my quest to find missing things, was the bin. Of course, for those who've also gotten
around to read another of my earlier posts (one titled "What a load of RUBBISH! The Terrible Sin Involving The
Poor Kitchen Bin"), his bin infatuation will come as no surprise. But, like the toilet, I honestly thought he'd
moved on, to bigger and better things.
Things like the washing basket - where, of late, I've managed to rescue
a few misplaced items before they've ended up in the machine, including some
crayons and sheets of paper which, I'm certain, would have been quite disastrous for any clothes they
ended up being washed with - and even outside in the garden. Oh.
And I mustn't forget to mention the bath. Unfortunately, poor Charlie
Bear - little man's favourite of all soft toys - ended up having to
participate, rather unwillingly I'd say, in a swimming lesson in a tub full of
hot water (it was in the process of being filled for little man and little
madam's bath) only a few nights ago.
So, as you
can imagine, with so many other wonderful places around the house to
hide/place/toss things, it hasn't really occurred to me to check the bin
recently, when conducting a search of the premises for a missing object. The other day, however, when my husband
located the roll of bin lining bags -purple in colour, with a lovely lavender
scent - lying patiently awaiting discovery in the kitchen bin, I realised how
stupid I'd been. Why of course. The bloody bin!
Suddenly, my
questions have been answered. Now I know
exactly what's happened to the missing pieces of the puzzle, the missing toys,
the kitchen utensils, and even my bottles of expensive hair-product. They've all been unfortunate enough to end up
at the tip! And long before their
used-by-dates I might add. Well, I guess
I could never accuse little man of having, like little madam in my last post,
hoarding tendencies. And in a house the
size of ours (which is rather small, I might add) it's not such a bad
thing. Even if little man's
de-cluttering has involved disposing of a full bottle of Moroccan Hair
Oil. Ouch!
Thanks,
little man, for taking the initiative to clean out the bathroom cupboard, and
kitchen drawer, and etc. I suppose,
given the state of my hectic life recently, I probably wouldn't have gotten
around to using any of that hair stuff anyway.
Love you!
