Parenting Means Having Some Little Secrets
Earth magnets are really cool! We have a few sets — round BB-size ones. Their claim to fame is that when stepped on, they can make you skate across the floor in your tennis shoes, or they hurt like the dickens in bare feet! Large ones? Seriously, I am able to hang the girls’ robes and hats on those. And the cool, tiny cylindrical ones? Well, they have all kinds of impractical uses.
Currently, the latter shape has been found in various places around my house. The other day I found them on my makeup mirror — the kind of mirror that magnifies your pores until you feel like Neil Armstrong hopping over the face of the moon. At any rate, they hung from it like stalactites, and sprung from the top like stalagmites. My mirror simultaneously resembled a friendly alien and a whiskered menopausal woman.
I decided to pluck one of the “whiskers” and the tiny stacked cylindrical magnets did what round objects do — they sprang from my hand, rolled across the countertop, and into the sink. Hastily, I grabbed for them, and with just the right amount of calculated finesse, I sent them rolling into the drain, where . . . they “quick as lightning” magnetized to the inner wall.
There they clung. Whisked away by unseen forces.
And there they will stay.
I immediately recognized the futility of even attempting removal. I mean, they flew down the drain like a water moccasin chasing an unsuspecting golfer trying to retrieve a ball near a water hole on a south Texas golf course. You just don’t put your hand back in there!
So I did what any good parent would do. I shrugged my shoulders, pretended it just didn’t happen, and finished brushing my teeth.
What magnets? I’ll just leave them there for some future owner or plumber to find.
It’s our little secret, right friend?