Tonight was like any other night at my house. I am cooking dinner and Davis is playing with his new favorite toy that is Tupperware. My child will be the one that plays with the box the toy came in instead of the actual toy. I was actually excited about this meal because it was going to be me and Davis' first real 'meal' together. I was making chicken and ravioli. I'm making the chicken and cleaning things around the kitchen and Davis is still on the floor. By the time the chicken was done, it was still pretty early so I decided to cut it up and leave it on the counter for when I finish cooking everything later. Where I went wrong after I leave the chicken on the cutting board is beyond me. Are you guessing what I'm going to say? Davis and I go back to his room to read books and play for a little bit. No loud noises, nothing weird happens, no one bursts into my house starving. Four books later, I decided to go ahead and start getting the water boiling. Davis is back on the floor and I start scrubbing the cutting board and putting things away. Yes. Did you get that part? I was cleaning the cutting board! What in the world happened to the chicken?!? Being the space cadet that I was being at the moment (shockingly, I don't have these moments too often...maybe) I didn't even realize at first. I'm singing Disney songs to Davis (my new favorite station. Yeah, baby!) and doing my thing, when I go to reach for the chicken. What the hell? It's gone. Like, the chicken had come back to life and decided it didn't want to be eaten by me. I'm standing there in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the counters like it is going to magically appear. To make matters even better, I was on the phone with Michael telling him, oh yeah, I just literally lost my dinner. So I hang up to start looking around. Who looks for their food? Man, am I special! You name it, I looked there. The backyard, even. Why would my dinner have escaped to the backyard is beyond me. The washer, dryer, the cabinets, freezer, oven, even underneath my bed! My poor dog must think I hate him. I pried the poor thing's mouth open to smell his breath thinking he was the culprit. No, I can't blame him. And he's never eaten our food. Well Davis, no basil pesto goodness of chicken tonight. You get some plain ravioli. Not like he noticed. The kid would eat dirt and think it's a great meal! This is worse than when I was pregnant. At least then I would have found my chicken breasts shoved up in a cabinet or something! I am suffering from overly mommy brain times a million apparently.
And still over two hours later, I can not find the freakin chicken. Michael has called several times asking where it turned up. Yeah, um, no. I have no idea where I put it or what happened to it. Who loses food!?! Seriously? If you have Nancy Drew's phone number, or know how to get in touch with Inspector Gadget, please let me know. I'm sure I'll have some wonderful smells coming from somewhere when we get back from Colorado!