“A place for everything …

…and everything in its place.”

It’s a nice saying, but it sure doesn’t apply to my house.

Things just migrate around here.  I try to keep some semblance of order, but with an almost-four-year-old and an almost-two-year-old, it’s a losing battle.  Toys and clothes appear in the strangest places.  Matthew’s blankie often shows up in the bathroom basket where we keep bar soap.  I got into bed a few weeks ago and found a Matchbox car in the sheets.   That, I should add, was preferable to encountering a plastic frog in the same place  (call me a sissy, but I actually screamed at that one).

But the prize for odd object/location pairing has to go to this:

When I rack my brain trying to figure out where Luke has put his missing sandal, somehow I never think to look next to the Panko breadcrumbs.

Silly me.

Now I know.

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