We live in one of those older homes with an attic. A real, true, honest to goodness attic. On a side note, I love our attic. How cool is an attic with its angled ceilings and cozy little knee walls? They are fabulous.
I digress. We haven't quite gotten around to making the renovations that will turn our glorious attic into fully finished 3rd floor; it's more of a semi-finished 3 season room. Instead of the plush carpet I dream of, it currently has a clown hair orange remnant-cut covering the bulk of it. My feelings about this clown hair rug are fodder for another blog, another day, but I can tell you that when we moved into the house, we found a book hidden beneath the it.
It was an old copy of a Golden Book Alice In Wonderland.
The girls were enthralled that we found this buried treasure and spent a lot of time seeking out nooks and crannies to see if the Literary Fairy had left them any other joyous gifts. She didn't. But they loved this singular find anyway.
Then one day it disappeared.
This happens a lot in our house. Books and toys are loved and enjoyed, and then somehow dissolve into the ether. Where do they go? Who knows. What I do know is that the girls will happily move on to a new love, a new devotion, and forget all about that lost object.
Until something makes them think about it again.
And then they want it. The very thing that is missing. Whatever it may be. Even if they have another of it. They want THAT one.
So it was with the Alice in Wonderland book. After they lost it, they moved on. They adore books, so it wasn't hard to distract them. Every once in awhile they asked about it, wondered about it, searched for it. They couldn't find it. I even ordered another copy from that great purveyor of replacements for the misplaced: EBay. It mollified them, but didn't quell the curiosity for the location of the one they'd lost.
"It's somewhere in our house, Mom. Do you think the house ate it?"
I did not.
Recently, their curiosity has sparked anew, sending them scurrying hither and thither in search of this great white whale in our house. Where could the book be? I asked them not to tear through the bookshelves; we'd already done that. I asked them to avoid the toy boxes; checked those too. I suggested under the furniture, behind the furniture, all places we'd checked before but which didn't add to my Clean Up List, which made them a-okay searching spots in my mind.
And so they looked.
I suggested they give up. (I sure did). We have no fewer than 4 copies of that tale of Alice and her adventures down the rabbit hole. Really, we do not need this one copy that is missing. Move on, my darlings.
And continued their search. I shrugged and went on about my day, forgetting all about their renewed hunting efforts.
But then, miracle of all miracles, Caedance found it. She actually found this book. This lost treasure that had been missing for well over a year. You read that right. One year; more than that. Gone. They'd torn through every conceivable spot to no avail, and yet she found it today.
The joy. The jumping. The squeals of delight. Both girls were beside themselves with glee. Myself, I was just stunned. The impossible had just occurred. How could this possibly be? Where could it have been for all this time? Why had it alluded us?
Where was the book, you ask?
Was it tucked in some far put and awkward place?
Was it crammed behind some unused knickknack, gathering dust in its forgotten place?
It was under the cushion of the chair. The chair I sit in all of the time. To write the epic adventures of Twin Parenting, in fact. This very blog.
Right. Under. There.
I suppose it says something about my cleaning skills that I haven't lifted the chair cushion in over a year; a revelation I'll have to ponder closely.
But mostly, (I have firmly decided), it speaks to the determination and perseverance of my girls that they wouldn't give up looking for it. No matter how many replacements they got. No matter how many days, weeks, months, or years passed by. They still remembered. Still wondered. Still searched.
And they found it.