Lost tunes

Last night, while I was sitting in bed playing on my Macbook, (which I absolutely love, but that's another post) Jeffrey, my ever precocious 4-year-old, when he learned he couldn't play with mommy's Mac, inquired about my iPod that was setting on the nightstand.

"How do you turn this on?" he asked.

"It's locked," I told him, "so you can't."

No matter. Of course he will find an alternative means to use it. If it had 4 wheels, it could almost pass for a matchbox car, right? But who needs wheels, anyway? He proceeds to drive the iPod around on the floor, much to my displeasure.

"Jeffrey, please stop doing that and give it to me. That's not a toy." He places it back on the nightstand and goes off to find some real matchbox cars to drive around on the floor.

After the boys are tucked into their beds, I try to improve my score on Pathwords, to no avail. It's just not a compatible game without a good old fashioned mouse, which I did utilize, but found it still doesn't work well unless it's on a flat surface. No bother. I'm tired anyway and decide to turn out the lights off the computer.

I sometimes listen to my iPod before falling asleep because let's face it: Toby Keith and Keith Urban's crooning voices are much more easier on the ears than G's snoring. But not to my surprise, the iPod is not on the nightstand. I reluctantly climb out of bed to go in search of my tunes. I even get my trusty flashlight and pretend I'm a CSI in search of clues. My search doesn't turn up the sought-after item, but I did find a nickel and my heating pad that I was looking for last weekend to sooth my upset stomach.

The flashlight casts a beam of light that I follow upstairs to Jeffrey's room. He is lying in bed playing a game on his DS. "What? What do you want?" he asks me.

"Jeffrey, where is my iPod? Where did you put it?" He continues to play his game, but I can see the little wheels turning in his head as he tries to continue the game and recall where he left what he knew he shouldn't have taken.

"It's in the living room." He sounds like Elmer Fudd, pronouncing his l's and r's with w's.

"Where in the living room?" I had already looked there.

"It's with my cars on the living room floor." Yes, the very place I already looked, but maybe I missed it. I go downstairs to look again and again, I don't find it. But I do find the remote control for the TV in his backpack which is a search that got squelched today, but if I had a Clicker Caller, it wouldn't even be an issue.

A second visit to Jeffrey's room. "It's not there, Jeffrey. Where exactly is it in the living room? Do you even remember?"

He takes the flashlight and I follow him downstairs to the spot where his cars are o the living room floor. He seems genuinely surprised to find it not among his toys. "I'll look for it tomorrow morning," he tells me. "I don't have school so I'll have all day." Is it going to take all day to find it?

I search a little longer before finally giving up and going to bed. I listen to G's snoring and eventually fall asleep.

This morning, Jeffrey climbs into my bed to snuggle. "Don't you have an iPod you need to be looking for?" I ask him.