Life of Wry

This is an all’s well that ends well story.

Had dinner with friends tonight…  Peter and his friend WB decided they wanted to go to the park and play football.  I’m not sure exactly how that works with only two guys, but I do know it involves a lot of running and more tackling than I really want to know about.  Tackling results in phones popping out of pockets and going missing and unnoticed until football playing guys have returned home, oh, maybe an hour later.

After everyone’s left, Peter [uncomfortably] fesses up that he’s lost his phone–a sore subject in our house because of the frequency with which this happens–but assures us that he knows where it is [uh…Central Park].  He begs and cajoles me into going with him to look for it.  In the dark (it’s about 10:30 pm at this point). I tell him I’ll go with him to find it on one condition: he cleans his room.  (I loved that one.)

He cleaned his room.  We took off for Central Park.

The field–expansive and very, very dark–is wet, as the automatic sprinklers have been on.  Not only is this a needle-in-a-haystack expedition.. but it’s also messy because the grass is quite muddy.  It’s chilly and blades of grass and mud are starting to cover my legs.  I’m using my phone to call his, but so far: nothing.

Peter’s on his hands and knees, crawling slowly in the area he thinks is most likely the spot, ear to the ground listening for the familiar ringtone.  I’m doing no such thing.  I’m hoping the phone will light up like a little beacon as I call it again and again… but so far: nothing.

Well…. more time goes on, and by and by, as the picture gives away, we find it.. Peter does.  He’s so happy about this!  So pleased with his idea and his success!

And that was that.  End of story.

And… don’t tell him, but I thought it was fun, too.