Especially his keys.
Like freaks out, cusses, sweats, runs amok around the house on a rampage.
He's done it twice this week.
Between him and the tween, I'm trying to stay out of their way.
This morning he's getting dressed for work.
Can't find his keys.
I see him mentally going over in his head where he's been this morning.
Last night...basketball, home, car.
I hear him go outside and check if they're in the car door or front door.
Comes back into the bedroom mumbling and thrashing around his bedside table.
I hear him pat his pockets twice.
Man he has a lot of change in there.
Again, back through the house stomping about, the kids waiting for their ride to school.
Comes back in, by the bed opening and closing drawers.
He's on the floor, shuffling shoes and clothes about.
Under the bed, pulling out boxes and papers.
He pats his pocket again.
"Are they in your pocket?!"
He pats it yet again, slides his hand in and to his amazement and my eyeroll, there they are.
I'm going crazy he says.
Phew. I thought I was the only crazy one in the house.