This morning I got a phone call from my oldest daughter. “Dad,” she said, “you’re really gonna be mad at me.” The way she said those words—maybe it was the panic in her voice—made me think that yep, I was probably really was going to be mad at her.
“OK,” I replied, “I probably will be. What happened?”
“I lost the car,” she said.
“What?” I asked. I was still trying to get my brain around the concept of losing a car.
Sensing my puzzlement, she continued, “The car is not in the garage.”
“OK,” I said, processing this. “Did you leave it at school yesterday when you walked home?” (Since Linda is in California, Christine has been driving her car.)
She thought about that a moment. “Oh yeah,” she said.
And just like that, the car that was once lost now had been found. Crazy kid!