On Tuesday, the first day of lacrosse practice for the season, I ended practice probably about 20 minutes early, not due to any intention, but because my watch was broken. Of course I thought about how time was just flying and it felt pretty good. But on Wednesday everyone commented about how early I let them out.
Yesterday, Ben and I bought me a new watch. It was not a fancy one, but a digital one (which I hate) that will help me keep time more accurately. I set it on my nightstand last night in the hopes of programming it in the morning, but as Ben and I left the house, it was not in my possession. Things like this upset me a great deal, because just like a heart attack survivor who wonders if each chest pain is another heart attack, stroke survivors question their brains and memory. I wondered (and believed) if I had lost it. And despite being sure of where it was, the whole process of remembering was torturous.
Of course all this tension and doubt was relieved a bit when I had a conversation with the weasel…..Be, my youngest son. On the way to the sitter he confessed that it was really his watch, and that he had put it in “mommy’s brown sleeping box,” which I hadn’t a clue what he meant. Of course at home right before leaving for practice I ripped my room apart again, but nothing. Amanda however had the brilliant idea at home tonight to ask him to show her the box……DEAR GOD IT WAS FULL OF LOOT….even $100 of Monopoly money.
Ben apparently has made this his safe. I told her to keep the watch there, since he thinks it is his, and the last thing I need is for him to choose a new hideout. But he, as my mom would say, is clearly a weasel……..and I am at least not certifiably crazy. Praise God!
Goodnight my friends and God Bless.
Tommy+