Lost, or, How Did He Get In There?

I have had my Fisher Price Sesame Street playhouse for about 33 years.

That's right. I got it when I was about three. And I never lost a piece. Not the Ernie, not the garbage truck, not the little TV or Mr. Hooper's lunch counter. I played with it nonstop until I was really about 10. I loved it that much. And my mother saved it and all the pieces for me. Now I let the girls play with it, but not all the furniture. They don't need that stuff yet. (The lunch counter and the garbage truck, yes. But Bert and Ernie's beds? Their kitchen table? No. In a Ziploc bag, hidden). The other day Big Bird was in his nest, and then he wasn't. I was sick. I looked under every radiator. Every piece of furniture. I went through the bookbox. The accessories box. Every cushion on every upholstered piece of furniture (thank you, Laubacher's http://laubacherupholstery.com/). Nothing. I thought, that's it. 33 years was a good run, but it was bound to happen. I looked sadly at BB's empty nest and thought, sorry, buddy.

I knew Emma had BB last, and then the next time I saw her she was playing with my old oven mitt. I kept saying, Emma, where is Big Bird? Inexplicably, she'd walk in the kitchen, but wouldn't point to anything. This morning I made the girls oatmeal and put my hand in the oven mitt to pour from the kettle. Who ended up in my palm? You guessed it. Emma was sitting in her chair eating berries. I said, "Emma, did you put Big Bird in this mitt?" She looked me square in the face and said, "Yeah."

Go Emma. Go Big Bird. Reunited again.