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Bag Ladies

Both of my girls have this tendency to
gather things – anything, really, but preferably small and/or
sparkly – into bags, and then leave them all over the house.
Heaven help us if we try to unpack them and put the items away, and
heaven help us even more if we actually need one of the items in
one of the ten bags currently in use.

Is this a childhood thing? Or is it just
my kids? Their play kitchen has a cloth lunch sack, packed to the
gills on a daily basis with what are mostly – but not
exclusively – food items. Then you open their play fridge and
find another small grocery sack, also dearly packed, whose contents
are memorized and which must stay JUST LIKE THAT in case some
long-forgotten game needs to be resumed with the bag.

Last night I was helping the girls clean
up the game room and found a large plastic bag with handles
that’s usually used downstairs with the baby care center.
Somehow it had found its way upstairs, and contained several small
costume pieces from the wardrobe, a stuffed dog, a scarf from
downstairs, a baby onesie, a headband from Maddie’s
collection – not worn for several months – and,
inexplicably, a peanut.

The process of unpacking these bags involves much negotiation and
copious promises to properly love and cherish each item as
they’re returned to their rightful homes. It also involves a
waiting period enforced more strictly than the handgun laws, with
tearful pleas to “Just leave it like that one more day,
Mommy, you promised!”

I stumble across a purse bulging with all the costume jewelry, plus
one dog-bone-shaped crayon. Then I rummage to find my purse, and
discover it next to a small shopping bag laden with colored rocks,
pennies, and paper clips. And I only find my car keys after sifting
through a bag filled with sequins, silver ribbon, a roll of
quarters, and –yes, indeed – my car keys. “It was
a bag full of silver things!” is the obvious explanation.

So if you’ve lost your car keys or garage door opener or even
your 401k, don’t even bother with Saint Anthony – the
patron saint of lost causes doesn’t even need a summons.

Just come look in my living room.


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