After Christmas, Mr. Plain and I piled the kids into the van and headed to Portland, Oregon. Much of Mr. Plain’s family lives there and we usually visit them after Christmas. We arrived after an abnormally trouble-free drive — complete with a constant loop of cartoons on the DVD player — and got started visiting all the local family members.
One of our first stops was Mr. Plain’s Dad and Step-mom’s house. They had recently relocated to a condo that is all on one floor, and it was wonderful not to have to keep telling the boys to “stop playing on the stairs!!” So after the stern “look with your eyes and don’t touch anything” lecture, we just let them wander around.
In retrospect, this plan was flawed.
Upon our return, via an equally uneventful 13 hour drive home, I put off doing the mountain of laundry we had accumulated. When I finally got to it, it had grown to an epic size. I am pretty sure that every item of clothing we owned was in there, and I was reduced to dressing the children in the oddest outfits.
Imagine my surprise when I pulled the last load out of the washer and found this:
I stood in the laundry room with my mouth hanging open. Staring at a diamond tennis bracelet. I don’t own a diamond tennis bracelet. But I do have a child with a love of bright, shiny trinkets. Most days he comes home from school with his pockets stuffed full of treasures. They come from the craft projects at school and can consist of anything. Sparkly pom poms. Plastic jewels. Shiny paper. Sequins. Beads. You name it, and I have washed it out of his pockets.
But this was different.
I was going to have to find out who the owner was and return it. And get over my embarrassment! So I took a picture of it and emailed it to my father-in-law. Turns out it belongs to his wife who, MERCIFULLY, has a great sense of humor about the whole thing.
Hey, thanks for washing my bracelet!
The first day you guys visited us, there was a lot going on, and I heard a drawer shut in the bedroom. I noticed [boychild] was out of sight, but didn’t really think anything of it until later, when we noticed something shiny on the living room floor near [boychild]’s feet.
I reached over and picked it up – it was a Krugerrand coin I keep in my jewelry box on the dresser in the bedroom. We laughed about curious [boychild] and what must have looked like a pirate’s treasure coin. Apparently we should have checked his pockets!
She also told me it wasn’t an expensive bracelet, so big relief that I am not the parent of a diamond-thief. BUT A KRUGERRAND?!? I guess it could have been so much worse.
Originally published on the Silicon Valley Moms Blog. (And nope, I’m not gonna reveal the young pirate’s name. He’s not innocent, but I’m protecting him anyway!)