“Muu-uuumm, have you seen my keys?”
“They’re under the middle cushion of the couch downstairs, beside the comic you took from your sister. There should also be 77 cents in loose change there as well.”
My Mum had that special superpower that most mothers seem to have — the ability to know where anything was at any given time.
Can’t find your batting glove as you’re heading out the door for a game?
“It’s on the mud room floor, behind Dad’s boots.”
Missing a can of tennis balls?
“Top right, third shelf in the garage, next to the WD-40.”
It was amazing, and it worked for anything.
“Do we have any cereal left?”
“There’s a half-box of Shreddies in the corner cupboard. There’s also one of those small boxes of Bran Flakes leftover from camping. It’s in the little orange cooler under the sundeck.”
Can’t find your clothes? Easy answer… ask your mother.
“Have you seen my beige rugby pants?”
“They’re in the drawer in your dresser, right where they belong.”
“No, I can’t see them.”
“Look again.”
“Oh, yeah. Here they are. Thanks!”
You could even amuse yourself by testing out these special superpowers.
“Mum, where are the scissors?”
“In the junk drawer with the pencils.”
“No, the nail scissors.”
“Under the sink in the downstairs bathroom, beneath the bag of cotton balls.”
“Have you seen my new Foreigner ‘4’ album?”
“Downstairs stereo, in between that K-Tel Greatest Hits thing and my best of CCR record.”
“Have you seen the big frying pan?”
“Under the stove. Lift up the baking sheet and it should be there.”
And it always was. You could even mess with things a little, and it didn’t matter.
Me (moves can of beans from pantry to the fridge): “Mum, do we have any beans?”
Mum (from upstairs): “Yes, you just put some in the fridge.”
Truly amazing. And maybe a little scary…
You didn’t need a cellphone or a computer to organize your time.
“Remember, you’ve got a game tonight. I’ll be there after I pick up your sister from dancing. Don’t forget that book report that’s due tomorrow. Remember last time you didn’t format the footnotes properly.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t inherit this superpower.
I misplace my keys at least once a week. I forget to put the garbage out, even though the schedule is right there on the fridge, where I make too many withdrawals. I can specifically put the remote in a certain place, to be sure of its location when I need to change the channel. Six seconds later, I’m checking the couch cushions because it’s gone.
Now, I even have to revert to the old dad standby when I’m asked about a certain thing’s whereabouts.
“Dad, have you seen my keys?”
“They’re right where you left them.”
Now, according the office experts I’ve consulted with to research this particular piece, the mystical superpowers I am referring to are, in fact, a myth. Apparently, men are just lazy, forgetful creatures.
I’m not buying it.
I know a superhero when I see one.
