The case of the missing night light. A day in the life...

We keep a night light in the upstairs bathroom. Truthfully, it's not just for the kids. I have horrible night vision. I absolutely cannot see in the dark at all. No joke. Also, Maddie gets up to go to the bathroom about 2 million times a night, and I don't want her running into walls, because I figure if I can't see in the dark, neither can she.

A few nights ago I went to bed and it was uncomfortably dark as I was walking up the stairs. It took at few minutes of dysequilibrium and confusion to realize that the night light wasn't plugged in. I unplug it when I'm blow drying my hair, but I almost always plug it back in, but sometimes I forget (imagine that). So, I figured that's what happened. When I finally fumbled my way to the bathroom and got the light on, the night light was nowhere to be found. How weird. Yes, I can be forgetful at times, but I certainly would never "lose" a night light...would I?

I checked the kids bedrooms; I thought perhaps one of them was all of a sudden afraid of the dark and took it to their room. Nope. No night light. I asked Joel. You never know. He gave me the look that says "what the hell are you talking about?" He's ruled out. I was NOT going to bed without that night light plugged in. Injuries have occurred in the past because I could not see.

So I started searching.

I finally found it in the towel closet. Um....okay. Weird. So I plugged it back in and went to bed.

I forgot about it until the next night when I had a little deja vu. Repeat of the night before. Can't see going up the stairs, night light missing. First place I looked was the towel closet. It was there again, but this time it was buried in a pile of towels. Ghosts? Doubtful.

I remembered to ask the kids about it. Maddie started crying instantly. Turns out she decided to touch the night light (I don't even know....the kid is odd) and discovered it is warm, which prompted her to assume that it's going to catch on fire (so burying a hot night light in a stack of towels ought to help, right?)

We had a little chat about how the night light is not going to catch our house on fire. Joel used the word "impossible" which caused her to get angry, because "nothing is impossible" as she says. So I had to then explain to her that sometimes when people say "impossible" they actually mean "improbable." Then came the discussion about things that are "impossible" and things that are "improbable."

Here are Maddie's impossibilities:

It is impossible for rainbows to shoot out of my ears.

It is impossible for a bear to come into the house and sit down and have tea and discuss the weather.

It is impossible for poop to come out of your nose.

At least I got her distracted off the night light, although I'm pretty sure I didn't change her mind about anything. I decided to personally hide the night light until I go to bed, which solves the problem of me having to search for it right before bed, unless of course I am a really good hider. But that would be an "improbable."