Parker woke up from nap with the strong urge to play with "mine tiny horsey." I told her to go ahead. And then she dropped this bomb. "I don't know where it is." Childless people of the world, you no nothing of the terror that sentence can instill in a parent's heart. Because they know exactly what they want to play with. And you don't. And they will always have ten different versions of what they want. And they will be over the house. And inevitably the one they want is the one wedged between the couch and the wall, completely invisible to the naked eye. Much crying will ensue. Let me illustrate how this works:
I grab the basket of "ponies"
Me: "Is it this one?"
Me: "Is it this one?! This one is tiny!"
Me: "Oh! Here, I found it! Its a pink one!"
Parker: *eyes are beginning to well up with tears* "Nooooo!!"
Me: "Okay, okay, we'll find it, don't worry! Lets look downstairs!"
Me: I rummage through approximately 152,658 tiny plastic toys "Is it this one??"
Parker: "nooooooooooo" the wailing has begun...
Me: "THIS ONE? IS IT THIS ONE?"
Parker: "ooooooooooooooonnnnnnnoooooooooo" wailing is escalating
Me: *tiny resigned voice* "Is it this one?"
Parker: HUGE SMILE "Yes! Dank you Mama! Mama, can you get me da barn?"
Me: "This one?"