William’s Missing Backpack

I wonder if there’s a “can’t feel what you’re carrying behind you” gene. Why do I wonder this? Well, this morning while herding the kids out the door for school I find William just standing in the hallway with a dazed look on his face.  “Time to go, bud”, I tell him.

“I can’t find where you put my backpack,” he replies.

Now, I had just helped him put his backpack on his back a couple minutes ago and he was still wearing it, so at this point I figure he’s making a joke.  “It’s on your back,” I say and head over to the closet to get my coat.  “Oh,” he says and starts following me down the hall—which, I should add, is the opposite direction from the garage.

“Buddy, we need to pack up”, I tell him pulling on my coat with him still behind me.

“I need my backpack,” he mutters.

“It’s on your back,” I repeat putting on my coat and heading toward the garage.  But he still just stands there looking around.

“Let’s move out!” I bark at him over my shoulder.  “I can’t find my BACKPACK” he insists!

At this point I figure something about my “it’s on your back” reply just isn’t getting through for some reason, so I switch it up and say, “you’re WEARING it!”

Finally there’s a flicker of understanding and he says, “Oh!” with a little sheepish laugh after, and heads out to the car with me.

What does this have to do with a gene?  Well, not too long ago I was frantically searching the house for my wallet while the kids were waiting in the car.  I checked my office, counters, under my bed, bookshelves, even the pockets of clothes *in the hamper*—twice.  After several minutes of searching I finally found my wallet.  As you might have guessed, it was in my back pocket right where it was supposed to be.  When I finally got in the car, the kids wanted to know if I had found it and where it was, so I told them.  Ann just shook her said and said, “Good one, dad.”

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