Well that happened to us on Saturday night.
After an afternoon spent playing Rummy-O and watching the kids on scooters and swings we said goodnight to our hosts and mustered our kids towards the car, where we all stood waiting for someone to open the doors.
"You got the keys, Bruce?" Tracey asked me.
"No, you drove last," I reminded her.
She ferreted around in her purse and came up with nothing remotely resembling a car key.
"Maybe they're on the table," she suggested. After a minute I realized she was suggesting this to me so I could race back into the house. Still nothing. This nothing was becoming increasingly worrisome as sometime last month we misplaced our spare set of car keys at home.
Thereafter ensued an emu hunt through the house looking for our keys, with all the adults and older kids involved in the search. Five minutes later we were continuing to find nothing when one of the younger kids whispered something in one of the older kids ears then ran off.
"Apparently the car keys have been buried in the garden," we were told.
I was torn between three essential questions - who, why & where. The first was the easiestly answered - Miss4. The why involved a game of hide and seek which spun out of control. And the where took some coaching of a morose Miss4, a torch and a few minutes of digging to answer.
And I think in fairness it's got to be said - awesome hiding spot Miss4! You won that game by a clear margin. Just don't ever do it again.
Eventually we were on our way, chiding each other for not having found our spare keys yet and pledging we'd get to it sooner rather than later and turn our house, not to mention the garden, inside out until we find them.
Or we can maybe get another key cut. Can you guess which way I think we'll go?
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