Operation Lost Glasses

There are many four-word phrases every mother hates to hear from her thirteen-year-old son.  This time, it wasn’t the words, “I’m hosting a sleepover,” or “Not that for dinner!” or even, “I need twenty dollars.”  Last weekend, I heard my son yell from the basement, “I LOST MY GLASSES!”

 

“Great,” I muttered as the peaceful world I embraced just 30 seconds ago now ceased to exist.  I set my magazine down on the coffee table and shouted, “WHERE DID YOU HAVE THEM LAST?”

 

“I don’t know,” he said as he groped his way up the stairs to where I was standing. 

 

“You can’t remember the last time you were wearing your glasses?” I asked in disbelief.

 

He stared at me blankly.  “I can’t remember the last two hours,” he said, actually meaning it.

 

I sighed and began rounding up the DeCoster Special Forces who had undergone months of intense training in order to handle these types of situations.  “Mom,” my daughter whined as she came in from the back yard, “I don’t want to help Josh find his glasses.”

 

My husband griped as he stomped in from the garage, “This had better be good!  I was just changing the oil in the mower.”

 

“Okay everyone,” I ordered.  “We are now hard at work on Operation Find Josh’s Glasses.  Split up and each of you should search one area of the house.  Josh, take your bedroom and the kitchen.  Claire, take the basement and the back yard.  Honey, take the living room and dining room.  I’ll take the front porch and two bathrooms.  Meet back here in 15 minutes and good luck everyone!”

 

I turned to the dog who stared at me with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, “You!  Search the master bedroom!” I commanded.  The dog pranced off.

 

Fifteen minutes later, we all met in the kitchen.  “Any luck?” I asked.  Everyone shook their heads. The dog lay on the floor and panted.

 

Josh interjected, “I couldn’t really see anything without my glasses, so I’m not sure if they were in my bedroom or the kitchen.”

 

 “Let’s retrace your steps.  What were you doing the last time you remember wearing your glasses?” I said.

 

Dead silence.

 

“Let me guess,” I replied.  “You can’t remember anything.”

 

“Pretty much, Mom.  I do remember getting out of bed this morning and after that, things get a little fuzzy.”

 

I turned to my husband, “Were you this spacey as a teenager?”

 

He ignored me and commented, “If he left them on the kitchen counter, the dog probably jumped up and got them.  She always takes things outside to eat them.”

 

Ten seconds later, the entire family (not just the dog) was on all fours in the back yard.  As my husband and I crawled along together on the grass, I grumbled, “If we can’t find these stupid glasses, that’s like flushing $130.00 down the toilet.”

 

“I’ll search the dog’s excrement tomorrow,” he said as he felt along the grass with one hand.

 

“Are we really that desperate?”

 

“Hey, $130.00 will pay for one tank of gas this summer!” he answered.

 

Four hours later, we were having our third meeting in the kitchen.  “Any luck?” I asked everyone.  They wearily shook their heads.

 

“Let’s all just go to bed,” I said.  “Josh, go find your old glasses and you’ll have to wear those to school tomorrow.”

 

He disappeared in his bedroom and reappeared a few minutes later with a pair of crooked, scratched glasses sitting precariously on his nose.  “I can’t see a thing,” he complained.

 

“Don’t set those down anywhere but the bathroom counter!” I ordered as he headed off to bed.

 

The next morning, I woke up and headed into the kitchen to feed the dog.  I opened the door to the garage and stepped down on the first step.

 

CRUNCH!

 

The DeCoster Special Forces forgot to search the garage.

 

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About Vicky DeCoster

Award-winning humor writer Vicky DeCoster is the author of "From Diapers to Dorkville," "Husbands, Hot Flashes, and All That Hullabaloo!" and "The Wacky World of Womanhood." She has been published in over 60 magazines, books, and on several web sites. Vicky lives in Nebraska with her husband and two children where she loves to laugh every day. Visit her at www.wackywomanhood.com.
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