The Case of the Missing Brrs

When Colin was small, before my sister Cyberspace Sarah had her own children, Sarah was set to take him to Perkins one Sunday morning with her husband to meet some friends while Big Daddy and I sang in choir. When I reached the bottom of the stairs after choir, there was poor Sarah. Colin refused to go to Perkins and pitched a fit. They were left behind and both in tears.

So last night BD and I had praise team practice, and Sarah very graciously offered to come over and watch the boys. “Thank goodness she is an experienced mom now,” I thought to myself as we drove up the hill. “I don’t need to worry about a thing. I know she’s got it all under control and will not get rattled by anything.”

When we came home several hours later, we were met at the door by Sarah, “I am missing the brrs! I need the brrs!”

“You’re missing Bruce?” I asked, terribly confused.

“Toddler D needs ‘brrs.’ We are missing the ‘brrs.”

Oh! The “butters.” Toddler D calls his pacifier “butters.” I don’t know what to tell you. He has one at bedtime and I hadn’t really thought we would be gone past his bedtime, so I didn’t bother to tell her where they hide during the day . . . in a cereal bowl in the kitchen. Toddler D knows where they are and he had been pointing to the cupboard, but dear Cyberspace just thought he wanted a snack or a drink.

We had a really good laugh then. Cyberspace tells a good story, and there was quite the tale of Toddler D trying to be understood and Sarah trying to understand. Her daughter, my niece, recently left her stuffed kitty Meow-Meow in Wisconsin. It was very traumatic and I imagine that added to Sarah’s reaction to the missing “brrs.”

Thank goodness she and Colin lived through the Perkins incident and now she and Toddler D have their own story.

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