Where's Max?

“Where’s Max?” 

It’s a question I ask aloud several times a day, usually when it’s too quiet or when I’m up to my elbows in salmonella making dinner.  If the gate to the upstairs is left open, he will rummage through the older kids’ bedrooms looking for stale Cheetos or attempt to flush whatever is nearby down the toilet.  He’s never missing long and judging from the way he reacts when he’s recovered, I’m guessing he’d rather not be found.

The fact that our family has remained intact given our hectic schedule is no small miracle.  Weekday mornings usually begin with multiple attempts of waking uneager children, packing lunches that generally get left behind, standing at the bus stop, and dropping off kids to high school and daycare, which all takes place before 8:30 a.m.

Likewise, afternoons are just as hectic.  The real work begins after work when I practically sprint across the parking lot, chase the school bus to the top of Morgan Street, and begin what feels like endless trips to and from school and practices, sometimes until 9:00 at night.

Oh, and let's not forget the almost daily pilgrimages the store for milk that inevitably ends in several bags worth of groceries.  If I'm on my game, I can sometimes do this on my lunch half-hour.


With all the picking up and dropping off, there’s considerable opportunity for someone to get left behind. It doesn't happen often, but when it does happen, I feel my status as mom superhero wane a bit.

This past weekend, I forgot Max.

Again, he wasn't lost for long--five minutes, at most, but for those five minutes he didn't exist.  It wasn't until I was scanning Sam's birthday card for signatures that I realized Max's imprint wasn't there.

"Shit!  Where's Max?!" I blurted.

In his car seat, where I left him.  I raced out into the drive and flung open the van door.  From the safety of his restraints, he grinned at me and continued to play with his feet.

If he would talk, he'd tell you he wasn't lost at all.  Instead, he squirmed and squealed as I carried him inside, once again not yet ready to be found.