Standing in front of the cage this morning, I seriously considered keeping my mouth shut – but it had to be asked. . .
“Has anyone seen Chewie?”
And so there we stood, all four of us, minutes before we were supposed to be leaving for school and work, hoping that by sheer force of will we could make the hamster reappear in his cage.
Needless to say, it did not work.
Getting home early, Sophie and I set a few traps for the errant hamster – trash cans filled with wood chips and food – then headed out for lacrosse practice, with the hope that he would come out while were out of the house.
That didn’t work either.
As the night progressed, Chewie still hadn’t made an appearance and Sophie started to panic as the reality that we may not find him started to set in. Putting her to bed she sobbed that if anything happened to Chewie “it would be all her fault and she would never be able to forgive herself.”
(I didn’t tell her at that point that she was correct in this assessment).
As I was upstairs, Steve found a suspicious pile of chewed paper towels in the basement – and Chewie.
Tucking in our now greatly relieved daughter, I said what I couldn’t say earlier today – being Chewie’s mommy is a big responsibility. And hopefully today’s scare will remind her to take that responsibility seriously.
And to use the bungee cord.