Me: "I can't find my purple shoe!"
Mom: (Without looking up from her book.) "It's on the back porch."
Me: "Where's my doll with the braids?"
Mom: (Not pausing while doing the dishes.) "Under your bed, right side."
And so on.
One day, without knowing how or why, I realized that I had seemingly acquired this power in childbirth.
Sweet Husband: "We can't find the green train engine."
Me: (From downstairs while balancing the checkbook) "Under the chair in his room."
I hadn't studied or made any effort, but suddenly I could just find things. It felt like magic.
Until the other night, when the logical explanation came crashing down.
I was in the shower, and the Kid was in the bath, with Sweet Husband supervising. "I want my shark!" the Kid declared, but Sweet Husband had no idea where it was.
"Try the car basket or the farm toys," I suggested from behind the curtain. But then I remembered, "Oh never mind, it's in the bag behind his door. I rotated some bath toys out to there the other day."
Sure enough, the shark was there. But--and this is important part--the reason I knew it was there was not divine providence or bolt of lightening. The reason I knew it was there was because I was the person who put it away.
I want to be careful not to give short shrift to Sweet Husband, because he does more of the real, grubby cleaning that goes on in our house than I do. But "picking up" and "getting rid of clutter" are definitely my domain.
Thus, when it comes time to find toys and shoes and random bits of little-boy-flotsam...it's not magic, it's logic: I know where the things are, because I'm either a) the one who put them there, or b) the one who noticed they were out of place and made a note to put them away later.
And I have no doubt that my mother's "super power" came from the exact same source.
Do me a favor though--don't anyone tell the Kid. If I can make until he's 30 with some aura of magic about me still, I'll consider it a job well done.