K is MIA

My friend Kerry from college came for a visit with her ADORABLE son James yesterday. He is such a good, sweet little boy and my guys loved clowning around with him. I pulled out some of our toddler toys for him to enjoy while he was here. The dynamic duo were ecstatic; it was like they had never seen that stuff before when in reality, they didn't care at all about the stuff when the toys were age-appropriate. While we were packing everything back up, Jack just realized that some of the little people stuff was missing and when I lined up the fridge magnets alphabetically (yeah, b/c I'm totally OCD like that) I saw that letter K is missing. Apparently Mr. James has discovered the special toddler joy of throwing things away. UGH!!! I just went through the full trash can (Macaroni Grill food does NOT smell as good after a night in the garbage) and found the toddler toys but not the magnet.

We can't spell JACK without a K. Why couldn't it be X or Q or Z???    See, this is the kind of stuff that sends me off the deep end and why I should probably be medicated. A missing letter is no big deal and yet I'm about to go through the trash AGAIN in case I missed it while I was gagging the first time around.

K, oh K, where are yooooooou???