 I have a complex system of calendars, lists and sticky notes
designed to remind me of what I'm forgetting. I simply have to
remember to look at them.My daughter, on the other hand, has not
developed such a system yet. This was evident the other day when she
had to go to a tennis lesson followed by a sleepover at a friend's
house. She was very excited about the sleepover, so I knew she would
have little trouble packing for that. The tennis lesson, however,
was an easy event to forget.
For this reason, I made sure she had her tennis racket in the car
and tennis shoes on her feet. You may ask how I remembered. It was
the tiny picture of a tennis racket that I drew on my hand in orange
washable marker. My daughter packed a duffle bag for the sleepover.
Driving to the tennis lesson, a voice came from the back of the
minivan:
"Oh, phooey!" ... which is the worst curse my daughter has ever
been known to utter in her 12 years.
"What's wrong?"
"I forgot my pajamas."
Surprised, but not willing to turn around, I said, "Maybe you can
borrow your friend's PJs or sleep in your clothes. It's only one
night."
"Yeah..." she said, clearly concerned but not wanting to
complain.
A few minutes later, "Oh, phooey!"
"What now?"
"I forgot my hairbrush."
"For goodness sake! You have a huge duffle bag. If you don't have
your pajamas in there or your hairbrush, what exactly do you have in
there?"
"My pillow."
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 "You put your pillow in a duffle bag?"
"I didn't want to get it dirty. That would make more laundry to
wash."
So someone actually was listening to my ranting about laundry
reproducing itself in the hamper. The girl has a way of making me
feel guilty for my whining.
"Maybe your friend has a brush you can use, too," I said, still
not wanting to turn around. We were going to be late for the tennis
lesson as it was.
"Yeah..." she said, still not willing to complain.
We were almost there when I heard:
"Oh, phooey!"
Uh, oh. It was a triple phooey. That can't be good.
"What did you forget this time?"
"My toothbrush," she said miserably.
Something told me that her friend would not be as accommodating
with her toothbrush.
I used to have a spare toothbrush, still in its package, in my
glove compartment. Don't ask me why. That question had never been
sufficiently answered and is probably the reason why the toothbrush
was no longer in the glove compartment.
We could buy one if there was a store between the tennis lesson
and the sleepover. I mentally went through the route. There wasn't.
At this point she was missing her pajamas, her toothbrush and her
hairbrush anyway. These thoughts led to only one conclusion.
I said, "Oh, phooey!" as I turned the minivan around.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info.
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