FUNKY MONKEY

Couple of months ago, our day care provider made the horrible mistake of allowing Lily to take home a toy from the day care's collection. This was a mistake for us, not her. Now, if Lily is still playing with something when we show up to take her home, instead of having a confrontation, it's "Oh, just take that home with you. Bring it back tomorrow."

We have been able to use this to our advantage, however. Recently, if she's not been good in school that day she doesn't get to bring home a toy. Of course, a three-year-old not being good is mostly not listening to the teachers, ie., not having her "listening ears on." This phrase is more than a little stupid, but I have nothing but respect for these woman who deal with screaming children all day long. Not that our children scream... are kids are angels.

Anyway, Lily has glommed onto this stuffed monkey which makes monkey noises when you squeeze him. She has dubbed him "Squeeky," a name I think she cribbed from some TV show. Most days (most good days, that is) Squeeky comes home with us, then returns the next day. Mind, Lily doesn't even play with Squeeky when she gets him home, it's just the concept of being allowed to bring a toy home that matters.

So she brought Squeeky home last week, and she put him somewhere. And goddamn if we can find where she hid that damn thing.

Our three-year-old has outsmarted us.

Both The Scientist and I have searched high and low for that damn monkey, and it is nowhere to be found. Lily is not helpful, all she'll say is that "Squeeky's playing hide and seek!" Yeah, he is honey, and he's much better at the game than I am.

This worries me a great deal. If I can't find where she's hid a stuffed monkey -- that makes noise for crying out loud -- at three, then how am I going to be able to find her pot stash when she's 17?