This morning, I asked Mini something and his response was, “I have good news, and I have bad news.”
This made me realize that the day is fast approaching when I will repeat to you something that Mini has said to me and you all will have stopped believing me altogether. There will be accusations that I just make up these conversations to get traffic, because no three year old could possibly be this well-versed in the language of 70s I’m OK, You’re OK street parlance.
But since he mentioned it, about Buzz, I have good news, and I have bad news.
The good news is, Mini is not too upset. Yet. The bad news is, we don’t know where the fuck Buzz is.
Here’s what happened. And I really don’t want to turn into those insane mothers who starts pointing fingers. But what I’m going to do is, I’m going to turn into one of those insane mothers who starts pointing fingers. Because I absolutely did drop Buzz off with Mini yesterday at school. I specifically remember tucking him into the cubby, because I had to smash him down in order to fit him in with all the other crap that was in there. So I go in to pick up Mini yesterday and Mini says, “We don’t know where Buzzie is, Mama.”
And right away the teachers start up with the gaslighting.
Oh, you didn’t bring Buzz in today, they say. And I say, Oh yes I did. But they’re insistent, right? And I’m saying, Oh yes, I did bring Buzz in, I remember, I know I did. And they are saying, Well, he wasn’t here at naptime. And I’m saying, Right. But I put him in the cubby. And all I’ve got is a three year old to back me up, who is talking about — What the fuck are you talking about, Mini? Blocks? Honestly? Can you stay on target here, buddy? We are trying to locate BUZZ.
So we search. We search everywhere. In all of the cubbies. In all of the baskets. Underneath all of the communal stuffed animals. Even in the yard. In the other rooms. We can’t find Buzz. And all the while, they’re still trying to sell this idea that I never brought Buzz to school in the first place, but I know. I know who took Buzz. But I don’t want to say it because I’m not going to be that insane mother who points fingers. So I go through the motions of looking, and I agree to search at home, in my car, even in the parking lot, even though I know that he’s got to be either in that room or in the trash, or gone home with somebody, because he did come to school and besides nobody is talking about the elephant in the room which is the kid who has been known to go into Mini’s cubby and take shit out of it, nobody has taken THAT kid aside and questioned him, or played good cop bad cop on HIS ASS. OH NO. It’s all about, did you check YOUR car? How about the parking lot? Or maybe somebody turned it into the office?
We went home last night and things were quiet. Mini was not too upset about it, though he did mention an incident, involving the kid in question, Buzz, and some blocks. I thought this was a lead, so I called it into the classroom. They told me they would follow up on it, but I am pretty sure they have started throwing my suggestions directly into the circular file. I told Mini that his teachers are continuing to look for Buzz and not to worry. He comforted himself with Bruin Bear and Lamby Lamb last night, and this morning we both went in, hoping that they had managed to find Buzz overnight.
No such luck.
I was talking to one of the teachers about it, filling her in on what Mini had told me about the blocks, and trying to be as diplomatic as possible. She told me, “Well, three year olds can tell you stuff that happened from days ago as if it was today.” And I said, “Yes, I know. It’s just that, well, and I really don’t want to be that parent, the one who makes a big deal, but this is the thing, he does tend to always fixate on Buzz, I’ve seen him do it before, and –”
Just then, I see the same kid running up to Mini with Lamby Lamb — Mini’s Lamby Lamb — and shaking it in Mini’s face, and then running away with it. And then before I know what I’m doing, I’m running over to him, and grabbing it from him, and I’m saying, “No, no! That is Mini’s! You cannot take that out of Mini’s cubby, OK? Do you understand? That is Mini’s!” I look at the teacher and I say, “Do you see? I know that 3 year olds are not reliable narrators, but Buzz went missing yesterday, and I’m telling you about it, and then the very same kid goes and takes the next lovey out of Mini’s cubby while I’m standing here telling you about it!”
And I realize, with horror, that I’m that mother. I’m that horrible mother who makes a big deal about everything, blames the teacher who has to watch eleventy billion kids for one missing lovey. I’m over here picturing Buzz with a knife stabbed through him and a note written in blood that says, “You’re Next!” Meanwhile, Mini doesn’t even really care all that much, in the grand scheme of things, he’d rather have Buzz back but can he sacrifice a lovey? Probably. In fact, if I stop freaking out about it, maybe he will forget that Buzz is gone.
He’s a pretty secure kid. It’s me that is the fucked up one.
Epilogue: We found Buzz! Suspiciously, he was found smashed behind one of the girls’ cubbies. Now, I checked in and behind every single cubby twice, so I suspect somebody is trying to play this girl as a patsy, but whatever, the important thing is that Buzz is home safe. I’m currently fashioning a lock on him to attach to Mini’s wrist so he doesn’t get kidnapped again.
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