A show of hands

When my children walked out the door to the school bus Wednesday, they were wearing - collectively - four gloves.

By Thursday morning, they still had - collectively - four hands. But just one glove.

How does this happen?

They were both sure they'd worn their gloves home. One hinted that Dad might be at fault. Until I suggested I would share this suspicion with him. No, no no. Suddenly Dad was exonerated.

As long as it takes for my kids to get into their snowpants, coat, hat and boots... it takes even longer to find their gloves. What's wrong with this picture?

The two of them seemed rather unconcerned as I looked around the house and through the closet.

The TV went off.

I had their attention.

AJ didn't believe me that his gloves weren't in his backpack. We pulled everything out. There were no gloves lurking in the bottom. It should be noted that the one glove I had found is actually one of the back up "super hero" gloves that - in desperation - I'd had him wear on Wednesday when we couldn't find his second black/red glove. Remember the black/red gloves? I bought two pairs (four gloves) at the beginning of the season, and we no longer have even one complete set.

"I always put them in my backpack," he insisted.

"Why can't you put them in your pockets like most people do?"

He shrugged. No answer. I sent him to the closet to find another pair - anything - he could wear, as I turned to help his sister.

We looked by the fireplace, the toy table and the other spots where either Gus' takes things to chew, or where we toss the things we've rescued from him.

No gloves.

"Hey, Sydney," AJ called as he continued to dig through the bin in the closet. "I found your hat."

"We're not looking for hats," I reminded him. "Gloves. Focus on gloves."

And that's when I spotted buried amidst some toys, a rolled together pair of Sydney's old gloves. They're a very dirty shade of lavender with white snowflakes.

"Here, put these on," I said, "And let's get you zipped." We were down to just a couple minutes until the bus would arrive.

"But these have a hole in them!" Sydney protested, as she pulled on the first glove.

Yes, Gus had gotten to it. But it wasn't a big hole, and I had no other options.

"It's better than nothing." I started zipping her coat. And that's when I noticed the bulge in her pockets. "What's this?" I pointed.

"It's my gloves!" Sydney excitedly declared. "They were in my pocket!"

Off with the lavender gloves. On with the good polka dot gloves.

"AJ," I turned back to him, dirty lavender gloves in hand. "You've got two choices. You can wear a mismatched pair, or you can wear these."

AJ stared in horror, but finally decided matching girl gloves were better than a super hero glove on one hand, and a black/red glove on the other.

"AJ," Sydney taunted, "At least it's not angel wings."

"Sydney! That was mean," I immediately scolded.

"What?" AJ asked. He hadn't heard.

"Don't repeat it, Sydney. Just say you're sorry."

"Sorry AJ."

The bus came into view.

"Let's go. The bus is here."

AJ headed out the door. Stuffing those gloves in his pocket.

"Oh, no you don't," I called after him. "You're wearing them."

"Fine, Mom," he muttered as he continued to trudge to the end of the driveway. As he climbed on the bus, I noted his hands were still bare.

I meant to have a talk with him last night. But by the time I got home, he'd magically located both missing gloves - one at school, one in his hockey bag. (I can't believe I didn't think to check in his hockey bag!)

And so they're all set for this morning.

Except they probably won't need them.

Their school has already announced classes will start two hours late due to icy roads. All the districts around us have shut down for the day, so I suspect ours may, too.

But at least we all have gloves.