It’s turning into a weird week.
Hey, you’d think so, too, if you’d spent a good part of two days tearing your house apart looking for a javelina.
The javelina isn’t alive, in case you were worried. But it is my 4th grade boy’s class pet, and he was assigned to look after it for a weekend. So, naturally, if you’re a kid and you want to get an A, the next logical step is to lose Java the javelina. And good.
Our house isn’t big. There are a finite number of places where a 6 inch stuffed animal with a red bandana (not exactly invisible, for eff’s sake) can hide. And we’ve looked and looked. And asked smart investigative questions. Hitting all angles, I’ve interrogated The Girl at length about her involvement in the disappearance. She admits to showing Java to her friend when she was here playing, but swears she left him in one of two rooms. Narrows it down, don’t you think? (Not found in either place, obviously.)
The other night when Girl woke up in the middle of the night, groggy and blinky, I went all Law & Order on her, thinking that in the thick of sleep she might confess.
My girl is tough. She didn’t crack.
At this point, I suspect foul play. First degree pignapping.
The boy feels terrible that he lost the class pet. And I’m embarrassed – so embarrassed – all the while trying to strike a balance between assuring him that his class won’t hate him for losing Java (as he imagines) and also talking about responsibility.
Oh! It doesn’t help that the javelina came from a museum gift shop two and a half hours away, reports Boy’s teacher. She should know – she bought it herself.
I love his teacher. She’s great for my son. So when I called to ask her what she thought we should do from here (keep looking? or just replace Java?), I seriously thought I might cry. I’ve many times never felt like such a dumbass, even though she couldn’t have been nicer. Yep, I’m that girl. Worried about disappointing the teacher who’s at least a decade younger than me, for the love of god.
Geez. Fourth grade was hard enough the first time. This is such BS.
You know what’s going to happen, don’t you? I’ll buy a new javelina (the lost one is known around these parts now as That Damn Javelina), pay for overnight shipping, and deliver it to Room 29.
And then I’ll drive home and find the first one somewhere in plain sight, flipping me the cloven hoof.
Step right up. I’m taking wagers now.