Yesterday Mr. Man, Ivydog and I went on an adventure. We hiked down the hill from our back yard to the Pacific. We walked along the rocky beach for more than two miles. Along the way we found a golf ball, spent fire works, a dead seal, whale bones and more trash than I could believe considering where we were.
We came home to do a few chores. Wash the car, laundry, house cleaning, painting, homework.
All of this was before noon. Time for a nap. For both of us.
When we woke, I reached for something and noticed that my wedding ring was not on my hand.
Can you say PANIC?
I have never really been attached to inanimate objects, but this was different. My wedding ring means a lot to me. Mr. Man must have noticed my anxiety attack.
"What's matter daddy? What's matter?" I told him my ring was missing. We needed to find it, fast.
With out me even asking, he started pulling cushions of the furniture, looking through his toy box, under things. "I help find it daddy. I help find it." he said. It was really quite adorable.
We had torn the house apart. So much for the cleaning. We were just about ready to go back to the beach and start turning over every rock on the Oregon coast. I gave one more look through the house. As I was tearing apart the washer and dryer one more time, I found it inside the rubber door liner of the washing machine.
Relief.
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