Do you ever wonder how it is that your children seem most easily to inherit your worst features? Perhaps they missed the big ears or wide nose, but sure as shoot-dang, if you’ve got a hummer of a bad temper, they’ll get it in spades. I am thinking that perhaps my husband and I should have remained childless. Oh, we make cute babies, that’s not the problem. It’s just that they have some serious deficiencies, namely in the “Can’t Find Anything” department. I really think genetic testing should be available for this sort of thing.
Let me start off by explaining that this is an affliction shared by all three of my children, although the oldest two exhibit it with the most frequency and the with the most extreme characteristics. Seriously, my oldest two couldn’t find their way out of a paper sack, even with a map and a trail of Hershey’s Kisses.
For you non-believers, doubting that one family could face such a rate of affliction, let me be clear: I am not making this up. This is obviously some genetic issue that when my chromosomes mixed with my husband’s, we created children who look outwardly normal, but simply are not. I can see that some elaboration is needed.
On any given day, a version of the following conversation can be heard in my home.
“Mom, where’s my shoes?”
“Did you look in the shoe pockets where you are supposed to put them?”
“Yeah, they’re not there.”
“Okay, did you look by the front door, or by the couch?”
At this point, it is important to visualize what this process looks like. When I ask the child to look by the front door, he or she will look at the ceiling. ‘Cause you know, a person’s shoes are often on the ceiling. If I correct that behavior with a “No, on the floor!” then he/she will look on the stairs, or out the window. “The floor!”
“Oh, nope. My shoes aren’t there.”
This process continues until I finally just give up and go pick up the damn pair of shoes from the floor behind the child and hand them to the child.
What brings this to mind, you ask?
So last night I say to my family as we are finishing dinner, “Hey, what’s that blinking light on the floor in my bedroom? It’s right by the bed. Amelia, would you go get that and bring it here, please?”
Amelia goes into my room and picks up my shoe from next to my dresser. “It’s just your shoe Mom.” (The shoe in question was a flip-flop, black in color.)
“No, that flashing red light over by the end of the bed. What is that?”
Picking up a shirt from the laundry pile, “Is this it?”
By this point, my husband went in, picked up the Halloween decoration lying 2 feet from her toes and shows it to her.
This happens nearly every day at my house. Am I the only one? I cannot believe no one warned me of what to look for in all those parenting books I read.
*I should note that most likely, my husband carries a dominant gene for CFA. This morning he was looking for some of the packaging to an item he needed to return. I told him that I thought it may be downstairs next to where he was testing the device. When he came upstairs empty-handed, I sent him back again to a specific spot and here he comes with it in his hand. My only hope is that perhaps the youngest has been spared, but it isn’t looking too terribly promising after the search for his toothbrush this morning. Who would actually think to look in the drawer with all the other tooth brushes?