I Think It Might Be In His Diaper

Last week, Sam decided that my watch was the coolest thing in the entire universe. No matter what his malady, if I just hand over my timepiece all is soothed. Since it's a $20 watch from Target, I don't really care about it being gummed or thrown across the room. It doesn't seem to have any small dislodge-able parts that could be harmful to the boy, so I let him have at it.

Unfortunately, this often leads to my watch ending up behind his dresser or under a couch or in a toy box, where I can never seem to find it. Consequently, we've been late for quite a few appointments in the past seven days.

Sometimes when I try and explain this to people without children of their own, they look at me like I have three heads. Why on earth would I let my toddler play with my watch? I can imagine that when I was pregnant I would have thought the exact same thing. I was so sure that I wasn't going to be that mother who let her kid chew her keys or cell phone. I was a sancti-pre-mommy. But guess what? I totally am that mom. Anything to buy a few more minutes with a friend, at the mall, in the gym, even to clean the house.

So from now on whenever I need to explain away my tardiness, I won't tell the whole story of Sam and his love for cheap wrist-wear. I'll simply state that my baby took away my time and hid it from me. People might think I'm crazy, but then they'll be less likely to ask follow-up questions, right?

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