I must remember not to forget this one
Lately, I’ve been even more scattered than usual. Last week, I brought the girls to school without their school bags or lunches. I didn’t even realize it until I pulled into the parking lot and realized they were not in the car. Smacking myself on the forehead, I declared, “Good Lord, I am getting old. I can’t remember anything anymore.”
Then I marched the girls to their classrooms, got back in the car, drove back home, got the bags and dropped them off at school. And that was the last I thought about it. The incident was, well, forgotten, if you will.
* * *
Flash forward to this weekend: Peanut found a bright pink stuffed horse that she wanted. Really badly. I told her we weren’t buying it, but that Santa was coming in a few weeks and he was watching and would remember it when it came time to bring her presents.
“But mommy, what if he forgets?”
“He won’t forget,” I promised. “He has a good memory.”
“But he might. He’s really, really old after all – almost as old as you and you’re always forgetting stuff.”
::Note to self: no more self-deprecating age jokes in front of the children::
(And yes, I’m writing that down. Right. Here.)