Lost hat

So yesterday, as the mercury rose and outside got more and more balmy, Monkey and I went for a walk.

We checked out the local stich-n-bitch shop (translation, yarn/knitting shop). We went to no less than three grocery stores in an attempt to buy pickled jalapenas for chilli. (come ON folks, you've got pickled french cornichons, pickled organic beets, and pickled white asparagus but - what - japlapenas are too common for you to stock? sheesh!). And we generally enjoyed walking around and waving at every single dog and kid that went by.

Then, just as the elevator door opened onto our floor, as Monkey ripped open the bag of Gerber's dehydrated fruit and an explosion of freeze-dried strawberries flew into the air and threatened to choke our lungs, and as I backed out of the elevator and fell smack on my arse (*g*ddam*&it that hurt), I realized that Monkey had lost her beloved hat. Not any old hat, not a screaming oh-hell-no-you-can't-make-me-wear-it-hat, but a hat that Monkey LIKED to wear. In the land of no, this is a precious commodity.

Crap.

Back out I went. Meanwhile dad hosed Monkey off in the tub, since the fr&kg* strawberries stain everything, like our carpet. Sigh.

While I was out, I did not find Monkey's hat.

However, I DID find:

1) one mitten, red
2) one mitten, blue
3) one scarf, handknitted fuschia
4) one stuffed animal
5) one shoe
6) and a partridge in a pear tree.

As I went back to the apartment and ordered another (ok, two - you know, just in case) hat for Monkey, I chuckled. I was comforted by the thought of the city being awash in discarded toddler gear.

Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that your toddler isn't the only insane one in town.