“Honey, where’s my…”?

Three simple words that strike fear into my heart.

I don’t think it’s a guy thing. My son, dad, brothers and pug are all men and they seem to have no problem finding wallets, shoes and chew toys. Let’s be honest - it’s a Tom thing - and in our family the source of much amusement (well at least most of the time). Here are just a few of the highlights:

Our first year of marriage, baby on the way, and of course money is tight. Tom discovers his pay check has been stolen – which is later returned by a good Samaritan. Apparently he wrote our shopping list on the back of it, and after buying groceries decided to leave his ‘list’ in the shopping cart.

Fast forward another year – Tom takes our baby Tyler for a little outing – a lovely gesture which is meant to give me some quiet time. A few hours later he returns with the baby, minus the stroller and baby gear. After retracing his steps we find the stroller where he left it, in the isle of the local sporting goods store. It seems he picked up baby Tyler in order to get a better look at something, and just sort of forgot about the stroller and walked home with Tyler in his arms.

Summer of 2005, Tom and I are in New York when he discovers his passport is missing. He swears he remembers giving it to me while we were in Greenwich Village, and is sure I must have lost it.
For most people this would be serious business, but for our family it’s part of our vacation. Unfortunately, when he discovered it was missing - I was on my way out the door for an important meeting. To be honest, I was less worried about finding his passport than about the trouble he would get into while looking for it. I gave Tom very clear instructions not to worry about his ‘lost’ passport, to go and check out the sights, and let me find it when I get back.

Upon my return, I find that Tom has already been in contact with every cab company that services Manhattan, filed a report of theft with the local NYC police precinct, and has someone at the Canadian Consulate working on the problem. Within three minutes, I find his missing passport inside his drawer - stuffed in one of his socks - where he hid it a few days earlier for safe keeping.

But the best one by far, was the time a band of thieves stole his scooter. It was Valentine’s Day - and being the romantic guy that he is, Tom decided to ride his scooter to Granville Island to buy me some flowers.

Valentine’s comes and goes, and before long he looks out the window and realizes that someone has stolen his scooter. After doing the math, he comes to the conclusion that the moving van he saw in our neighborhood was actually owned by a band of thieves. In fact, they must have been master thieves – as they managed to steal the scooter right out from under his nose. It takes three days to file a police report and sort everything out with our insurance company – during which I can hear him telling various dispatchers that he watches CSI, and is confident that the scooter is now in a chop-shop somewhere in eastern Washington State.

A few days later, Tom goes to Granville Island public market to do some shopping, and notices a scooter that looks very familiar. He is both relieved and horrified to find that it is his scooter, exactly where he left it when he went to buy flowers on Valentines day. I guess he forgot he rode it there, and ended up walking home with just the flowers.

Later, I hear him telling the police and insurance company that his teenage son went on a scooter joy ride, and didn't ask his Dad for permission. A few hours later, Tyler hears Tom telling the neighbours a similar story about me!

The good news is, Tyler and I have become so good at finding things, we could easily open our own detective agency.