A place for everything, and nothing in its place.

As I was walking downstairs the other day, I happened to look up and saw a red foam clown nose in the light fixture in our foyer. Not only do I not have any idea how it got there, but I also am not sure I wanted to visualize the possible sequence of events that led to it being up there.

At this point, I am resigned to finding things in weird places. I had forgotten the toddler tendency to grasp interesting (which is synonymous with "most dangerous") objects in their little fists, wander around, and abandon their object whereever and whenever they find a new, favorite dangerous toy. This could happen anywhere: the bathroom, the shoe rack, any drawer they've managed to pry open.

 This pink box that I picked out of the recycling...

 ....is possibly the best toy ever.

You would think it would end when they get bigger and can understand that we store things in certain areas.  I explain, patiently, that if they don't put the scissors back where they belong, Mommy will probably go ballistic when she needs scissors and they are not there.  Ditto nail clippers.  And DVDs. Actually going ballistic doesn't seem to help things proactively.  It just makes them scramble around, and frankly, I can sense that I approach the limit of ridiculousness freaking out about MY NAIL CLIPPERS WITH THE RED RIBBON THAT I KEEP IN MY BOX OF MYSTERIOUS AND FORBIDDEN THINGS THAT YOU ARE NEVER EVER EVER TO TOUCH!!!

Enter husband, sheepish. "I borrowed them and forgot to put them back. Sorry."  Me, sheepish, because after all, they are only nail clippers even if they do have a red ribbon tied to them. "Oh. Thanks."
                                                                

What's that? You want me to sit still for a picture?   

But I thought this entry was "Nothing in its place."