Calling Inspector Clouseau

My son lost his breakfast somewhere between the kitchen and the car this morning. We both assumed that as he piled up all the necessary belongings that accompany him to school, that the breakfast simply got left behind, neglected on the kitchen table. I pictured my dog salivating, wondering how he could leap three times his height to gain access to the luscious smelling toasted manchego upon everything bagel.

Imagine my surprise when I returned home hours later and saw no sign of my son’s breakfast. No abandoned bagel, no abandoned bagel plate, no signs of anything. My Chihuahua didn’t look guilty, so I know he didn’t pull off a Houdini stunt.

I march through the three rooms of our small home certain that teenaged brain syndrome transported breakfast to the most unlikely of locations like upon the toilet tank or adjacent to his toothbrush. But no. Nothing.


I’ve seen the times when straight out of a stop at Starbucks, motorists place freshly purchased brew atop car and speed away allowing coffee cup the most elegant of journeys through air only to land sad and forgotten upon oil-stained pavement. This could be us, I think. But when I returned to our garage, there was no breakfast strew upon the cement.

My only fear is finding the food weeks from now, when the stench provides the missing clue to the treasure hunt.


kristen said...

someone once told me to find something lost, you say a prayer to saint anthony (irony much?) and then you tie a kitchen towel around a dining chair.

deezee said...

kristen, I am laughing out loud. not saying I won't do it, but laughing all the way! (and yes, to the irony.)

- deezee

crazymumma said...

I need to know what a guilty chihuahua looks like.

Timmy said...

I love the way you write!!

Girlplustwo said...

dude, the way things roll at your house with inanimate objects? that bagel is probably off on a date and will be back around 11pm.

deezee said...

jen, that so made me laugh!

figures the bagel would be getting more action than I am!

- deezee

Woman in a Window said...

I lost a ring once while swimming at a beach in the town my sister lived in. We went diving for it that afternoon with the help of strangers. I remember the feel of it letting go in the water.

I found it three weeks later. It rolled out from around back my toilet and hit me in my toe. plink. Go figure.

Maybe your son should go swimming for his bagel?