as an almost 17 month old i am pretty sure my mom never asked me, "amanda, where's your ipod?"
not only does Owen have one iPod. he has two. technically they are mine and Mitchell's, but they are currently being used by Owen. just like he thinks the mac is his, and our iPhones. it might just be easier to get the kid his own.
today, i forgot to pick up the iHome that sits on the floor in Owen's room with my pretty pink iPod before room-time. (don't worry, it's sort of hidden, so you can't tell that a boy has a pink iPod in is room) well, i didn't realize it was missing until this afternoon when i went to pick up his room and get it ready for bedtime.
there i am frantically looking for it. if we don't have it, what's going to play our thunderstorm white noise? what are we going to do? (more like, what am i going to do?)
i'm looking, and looking. and then Owen comes around the corner, golf club in hand, cinnamon toast in the other. and then i ask (in a half playing matter), "Owen, where's your iPod?" without skipping a beat the kid, puts down his driver, walks over to the diaper champ, opens it up, and looks at me.
ugh. really? you put it in there? ugh. it was in there.
thank you for finding it Owen. i should have asked you 15 minuets ago. or should have picked it up before room-time because that was a nasty stinky iPod. thank you clorox wipes and lysol.