The Case of the Missing Case

Last Saturday, I lost my contacts.  Yes, plural.  I lost both contacts.  Actually, I'd lost the contact case that was housing both my right and left contact.  I have no extra contacts; this is my last pair.

The night before, B and I had returned home around 10ish.  We'd been to Natural Bridge with Cassie and her boys that day, only to return to a storm so torrential that we couldn't see five feet in front of her minivan.  Because of the low visibility, we'd hung out at Cassie and Tommy's until the storm died down enough for me to see the road.  I'd had a migraine on the way back from Natural Bridge and had slept most of the ride to Cassie's house.  By the time we'd reached home, we were both so exhausted we went straight to bed.  Well, B did.  I took my contacts out first since I can't stand sleeping in them. 

The next morning, I could not find the case at all!  Now, when G was littler, he was obsessed an empty contact case.  He loved to toy with it in his little Pack-N-Play while I was in the shower.  As he got older and learned to open the tops, I switched to a blue contact case and let him play with my old green and white ones.  I still find old cases in odd places in our house: under the couch, in the hallway, near his bed.

So, my first move was to bring G in for questioning.  After thorough interrogation, I felt I could rule him out as a suspect.    Interrogation involved bringing him to the bathroom and asking him sweetly if he could help me find my contacts. 

"I find you's contacts, Mama!"

"No, G, that's an old contact case.  My contacts are in a blue case."  G does know colors. 

"I find you's contacts, Mama!"

"No, G, that just the top to a blue contact case.  Mama's contacts are in one with two tops."

"I find you's contacts, Mama!"

"No, G.  That's contact solution." 

Had G taken my contacts, he would  not have played this game.  He would have known what I was talking about.  He might have been coy about showing me where he'd hidden the case, but this line of questioning was revealing that he truly had no idea where the case was. 

I gave up.  I'd have to wear my glasses until I could get an appointment at the optometrist. 

Later that morning, Josh called me to the bathroom.  "Is this what you were looking for?"  Apparently, when I had put away my hair straightener that morning, the case had gotten snagged in the cord of the iron.  It had then been pulled into the bottom of the cabinet next to the drawers in the bathroom.  G had nothing to do with it. 

Case solved.  By the way, I have an optometrist appointment for this Friday.