A lot of tragedies happen in April.
I usually brace myself for a massacre of some sorts during this week of the anniversary of Hitler's birth. A pattern of such has been established. Usually whatever occurs is horrific, it's grim, and it robs families of their children, Americans of their peace of mind, and my mother of her right to celebrate the anniversary of her own birth in a carefree and capricious manner. Usually there is little cause to celebrate during the week of April 20.
I'm thinking of Waco, Columbine, Oklahoma City. Those are the ones I can think of off the top of my head. All April tragedies, each off the charts for their horrible-ness. Virginia Tech came early, and caught me off guard, before I was properly braced.
Anyway, I am sad for the victims and the families of the victims and I do not feign that my important announcement is, in actuality, important.
But, life is a predicament, as they say. I wanted to report back on The Case of the Missing Three Dollars. After Elliot's panic and alarm that his money was missing, and after casual and non-accusing talkings-to with the kids who were at my house the day the money went missing, and after many claims on their parts of non-involvement, and after pressing my husband to replace Elliot's missing dollars, and after he joyfully put the replacement dollars back in his Ziploc bag pushpinned to the wall with the exception of the one dollar he took to Target and spent on a Scooby-Doo pencil and pad set, after all that, I folded the laundry.
There were some interesting items in pockets that came tumbling out of the dryer and/or were found in pockets while I was doing laundry this week. Toothpicks -- about 30 of them, quarters, a foam frog, a fan pull, Legos. Oh yeah, and a freshly washed and dried roll of currency valued at three wouldn't you know it dollars. Elliot had stolen his own money!
Case closed. I repaid Steve for his contribution to the cause. Now I'm gearing up for my (friendly) lecture to Big E about cleaning out his pockets before sticking his clothes in the hamper. Maybe I'll start charging him for infractions.
Happy birthday, Mom. Sorry about the bummer week.