Everyone had eaten breakfast and brushed their teeth. Vince was all set for school and I was actually heading out the door on time for work.
That’s when the car keys turned up missing.

“Have you seen me?”

Searching for keys on the way out the door is hair-raising. Searching for keys on the way out the door with a five-year old glued to your hip is heart attack inducing! As I rummaged through the basket where the keys usually were, Vince informed that, “It’s time to go to school, Daddy.”
That’s was helpful. I didn’t realize we needed to leave immediately. It just a hobby of mine to tear the kitchen apart before leaving the house in the morning.

“Nope. Not in here. Let’s try the bedroom.”

With Vince in hot pursuit, I ran upstairs to check my dresser, my nightstand, the desk in the office, the floor of the office, the bathroom (Vince said we should wash our hands before we left. We did.), the bookshelves in the upstairs hallway, and finally, my dresser again.
“You already looked there, Daddy.”
“Until we know where the keys are, son, we don’t know where they aren’t. ”
By this time I was in my target heart rate and burning calories as if in mid spin class.

“Maybe this thing will get us to school.”

We headed down two flights to the basement, the laundry room, the toy bins. Yes, I started looking in places the keys couldn’t possibly be. This is the panic stage of any frantic search. Can’t find your wallet? Eventually you’ll be checking the freezer.
This is a good time to stop. Breath. Calm down. Try to remember the last time you had the keys. I had come in the night before with a few items from the store. I had two bags. I had the keys in my hand. I had some trash from the car…the trash. By now I was a man possessed. Only one thought on my mind.

“Let’s see…left over pasta, milk carton, passport…where
the hell are my keys?”

Sure enough, there they were. Vince informed me that we should probably wash our hands. We really should have gone through a hazmat decontamination facility, but there was no time. We put the trash in a new bag, quickly rinsed off the keys, and off we went. It’s all true. Except for the part about the passport in the trash. No such luck.  It’s still missing.

Thanks for reading. Tell your pals.
Chris Zito