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We call her Little IT for a reason

April 8, 2008

I’ve never claimed that I have the best memory for the important things.  I often walk into a room forgetting why I am there.  I sometimes run back into the house 3 times before leaving for work because I have forgotten _______ (insert “gym bag”, “sneakers”, “laptop”, “snacks”, “ID card”).  Mind you, I can tell you the b-list movie that guest star in this week’s “Law & Order” appeared in, but I can’t even begin to tell you where my car keys are most days.  Unfortunately, this is a condition that Little IT has inherited.

This morning was a sparkling example.  She walked into my room and saw her DS on my dresser.  “Oh!  There it is!” she exclaimed.  “Did you think you lost it?” I asked.  “Uh, yes,” she sheepishly admitted.  In actuality, we had left it there, wondering when she would notice it was missing.  It took a while.  She won’t admit when she loses something because it frustrates us me too much.

Then, as we were heading out the door, and I reminded her about _______ (insert “shoes”, “brushing teeth”, “tuition checks for after school care”, “lunch”) for the umpteenth time, she remembered she left the tuition checks and ran back into the house.  I was with some co-workers who were quite impressed that she remembered it.  I knew it was a once in a lifetime moment.

When we got to school, she ran out of the car clutching her breakfast sandwich and drink.  I realized she had left both her backpack and tuition checks in the car only once we were inside the building.  She had to go out and retrieve them, again with the sheepish smile.

Then, the piece de resistance.  I get a call on my cell as I am heading to the Lincoln tunnel.  It’s the school.  I listen to the voice mail (not while driving, of course, there are tons of stop lights between the West Side Highway and the tunnel) and it’s Little IT asking me to bring her violin to school.  I stop.  It’s Tuesday, not Monday.  Violin is Monday.  Why does she want it today?  I call the babysitter, but she doesn’t have a car, and I choose not to involve my mom in this production.

When I get to school tonight to pick her up, her violin is with her.  I figured the babysitter did go to the house to get it, but no, the story was better.  She went to dance on Monday and left it in the car of the parent who drove carpool to the dance studio.  That mom dropped it off at school today.  As I always say, it takes a village to look after Little IT.

Sigh.  No wonder I have no memory, I’m too busy trying to look after hers.  I’m probably harder on her than I should be, because as Mr IT points out, I see the traits I deplore in myself replicated in her.  But isn’t that what being a parent is all about? 

In the meantime, I’m looking for some ginko (I know I have some…somewhere) and I’m going to play the Memory game with Little IT.  If I can find where I put the game, that is.

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4 Comments leave one →
  1. April 8, 2008 6:58 pm

    The ginko is in the Memory game box right where you left it. As my mother once told me, “Edward, I’ve forgotten more than you’ll ever remember.”

    Of course her near perfect recall rendered that a sure left-handed comment/compliment. 😉
    Nice tale of two ITs.

    Er, three. Sorry, forgot. 🙂

  2. darci permalink
    April 8, 2008 7:34 pm

    LOL! That’s one good thing about having a cello. The size of it rarely allows it being “forgotten.” I have the memory of an elephant, while Bri’s more resembles a squirrel.

  3. April 8, 2008 7:35 pm

    I visualized your whole morning. It does sound familiar. It gets better in Middle School because they have to. The school creates a great organizer. Only 2 years away!!!!

  4. April 8, 2008 10:56 pm

    I think of my Mom and how she gracefully raised all 7 of us.
    It does take a village and I am always happy to lend a hand, a game or a ride.

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