Fetching for my family
Why is it that only mothers or wives can find things? Maybe it is one of our superior skills that only we possess, or maybe it is because: ? No one else picks things up as much ? No one else tries as hard to find them ? All others give up way too...
Why is it that only mothers or wives can find things? Maybe it is one of our superior skills that only we possess, or maybe it is because:
- No one else picks things up as much
- No one else tries as hard to find them
- All others give up way too easy
- All others know that Mom will find it eventually
- All of the above
I'm always amazed at how my family can maneuver around an obstacle course of toys scattered throughout the house. It really should be an Olympic competition. Unfortunately, I'm not as agile as the rest of my family. I will somehow step or trip over the toys causing me pain and, yes, heartache because no one else picks up poor Mr. Potato Head's body parts strewn along the hallway.
One day, my daughter Ally was screaming from her room, "Help me, Mommy!" I immediately dropped what I was doing, ran down the hallway, hurdling over toys, praying to God I wouldn't find her bleeding profusely. There she was, hands on hips, no major injuries, saying, "I can't find my Play Doh anywhere!" Relieved and a bit upset by her "Drama Queen" outburst, I opened the closet doors and lo and behold, it's where we left it yesterday. Ally lets out a meek, "Oh, there it is, Mommy," then grabs her Play Doh and skips down the hallway, yelling, "Thank you, Mommy!"
I sent my husband down to our basement, or what I like to refer to as our "fallout shelter," for a large roaster pan. After what seemed like hours, my husband finally emerged from our basement looking defeated. "I can't find it anywhere. Are you sure it's downstairs?" he asked. So I dropped what I was doing and traipsed downstairs. I did find it, but in my husband's defense, it was hidden by a covert operation named Ally and Ashley (our daughters). The roaster was in the spot I'd left it, but it was cleverly hidden. The cover was off and inside the roaster was a doll wrapped in a pink baby blanket, along with a few Lincoln Logs and a Slinky, which I'm assuming was for the baby doll to play with. It seems the girls used the roaster as a make-shift cradle.
Even our Yellow Lab has me fetching things for him. On one of those snowy days, I decided to get Kodi outdoors for a little exercise. I threw the Frisbee a few times down our driveway. He gladly retrieved it, that is, until I threw the Frisbee into snow that was obviously too deep for Kodi. He stood there on the driveway, barking at me, like he was telling me to go fetch the Frisbee. I pleaded with him, "Come on, Kodi, go get the Frisbee! I'll give you a treat!" He just shook his head. (He really did!) So eventually, I had to trudge through the knee-deep snow to retrieve the Frisbee.
Kodi was happy, I was breathless. This fetching thing with my family has got to stop! But then again, it's nice to be needed.