I knew something was wrong when my mom called me yesterday afternoon. She never calls me. I answered hesitantly. "Hello?"
"I've spent the past two hours looking for Shirt. I can't find it." She confessed.
My heart sank. Not Michael's beloved shirt. My old maternity shirt that I stuck in his crib one night to comfort him. The Shirt that he snuggles with when he's sad or tired. The Shirt that he's been dragging around with him for the past two years. The shirt that I DO NOT HAVE A REPLACEMENT FOR!
We talked over the entire day. When was the last time you saw shirt? Did you go any where today? Did he throw it off the balcony? We narrowed down that Shirt had made it to my mom's in the morning. They never went onto the balcony. In fact, the only place they went was the trash room. We determined that Shirt is either somewhere in her apartment...or down the trash chute.
Andy helped my mom look when he picked Michael up. No Shirt.
I stopped on my way home and did another search. Nothing. I was so upset over losing shirt that I even went down to the trash dumpster to see if I could find my mom's trash bag. I was prepared to go dumpster diving in a skirt and high heals if necessary. Unfortunately, The top of the dumpster was secured and I couldn't find one of the maintenance men to open it. I left in defeat.
I wasn't sure how the evening would go without Shirt. Michael did ask for Shirt once, but he seemed OK when I explained that I couldn't find Shirt. I thought bedtime would be bad, but after fighting to avoid having his PJs changed, Michael agreed to head upstairs without an issue. He didn't even ask for Shirt. He fell asleep without any problem. He did ask for Shirt once this morning, but once again seemed OK when I explained we couldn't find it. Overall, it doesn't seem to be bothering him much.
I, on the other hand, am having trouble with the whole thing. Last night I had a dream that I was looking for something in the house I grew up in. (The house that I searched a number of times for my missing blankie). After a little while I realzied that I was looking for Michael. He was missing and I couldn't find him. It was very distressing. It upset me so much I woke up in the middle of the night and almost got up to make sure Michael was asleep in his crib.
I will admit that in some ways I think this might be a good thing. Shirt is pretty gross at this point, and dragging it back and forth every day is getting old. Maybe it's a good time for a clean break.
Of course, we still don't know for sure that Shirt won't turn up. Wouldn't it really stink if Michael survived the separation and was over Shirt, only to have him find it again a few weeks from now? I think I'll advise my mom to keep it hidden if she finds it when Michael is not around.