Hiding The Cup.

This conversation took place in my car one day last week after an afternoon at the park.

Me: Tom, where is your cup?

Tom: *blank stare*

Me: I just gave it to you. Did you throw it over the side?

Tom: *whines for his cup*

At this point, we were stopped at a traffic light, so I put the car in park, put on the emergency brake and climbed (very gracefully) into the backseat to find his cup.

I didn’t find his cup.

Me: How could this happen? You just had it!

Tom: *leaning forward in his seat, getting more irritated at his lack of water*

Me: Okay, I’m going to figure this out. It couldn’t have disappeared. Maybe it’s under the seat!

At this point, my hand has touched every single (sometimes gross) thing in the backseat. I have accidentally turned on every toy (a book that sings songs, a cookie monster who asks for COOKIES!!!, a keyboard that plays Bach) and I’ve found the remnants of approximately 1,002 puff snacks.

I didn’t find his cup.

Me: Tom, I don’t know what to tell you. You have apparently figured out how to roll down your window and throw your cup onto the road. That’s all I can think of.

Tom: *Still leaning forward, still very mad at me for my lack of help. And for turning on all his toys at once, which is irritating to even him.*

Me: Tom, seriously. Where is your cup?


Me: I agree.

Tom: *pleading look*

Me: I’m sorry, Tom.


And then — I saw it.

Tom wasn’t whining because he wanted water.

Tom wasn’t leaning forward out of anger.

He was leaning forward and whining because his cup was behind his back.

And dripping water down his back.

Only took me 20 minutes to find it.

I. Am. Awesome.

Tom. Is. Wet.

This entry was posted in Motherhood, Tom. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Hiding The Cup.

  1. Victoria says:

    I giggled for a good 10 minutes after I read this. Too cute!!!

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