Now Where Did I Put My Glasses?

This morning I was rushing into the school with my children from a neighborhood street, driving the stroller on the dirt embankment above the parking lot like it was an all-terrain vehicle. Shortly after I got to the sidewalk, my friend Beth stopped me.

We started talking about a Halloween Party and whether or not we could go, and suddenly my brain imploded.

"Oh, my gosh! Where's Ella?" I shrieked, looking around for my preschooler. "Ana, where's Ella?"

She wasn't anywhere, so I took off without saying adieu to my friend, frantically scanning the school grounds. Beth was calling to me from behind. Finally her words caught up to me and hit somewhere in my brain with the thunk of a medium-grade meteor.

I turned to my left where I saw Ella, inches away from my face-sitting on my hip. The confused look on her face implied that she was trying to work out whether she was lost, invisible or her mother was prematurely senile.

I turned back to my friend. Beth was cracking up. I laughed breathlessly, bending nearly double in my hilarity at the old where did I put my glasses? trick my brain (or leprechaun) had so effectively played on me. Touche.

Still, never would have thought I'd do that with one of my children. But, hey! At least she wasn't perched on top of my head. That would have been truly embarrassing.