"I don't care if you have to go to the ends of the earth, but find them!" I holler at my son.
There's a phenomenon that happens in our house to clean laundry. It disappears in a puff of smoke. M (age 6), on a weekly basis, can't find his Sunday pants for church. Almost every week he comes to me in shorts and a button up shirt and proclaims that he can't find his Sunday pants.
Today he can't find his soccer shorts. If I hadn't washed three pairs of them on Monday, I might take pity and help him look. But I KNOW there are soccer shorts in his closet.
Socks disappear too. The sock fairy comes in the night and takes them away. And my oldest son who likes to proclaim that he ALWAYS puts them in the dirty laundry, thinks that I did something with all the socks he can't find. I think not, my son.
Of course they might be able to find things if they didn't spread their clothes all over the floor as opposed to putting them in their closet. I know. I come up with some wacky ideas.
"Look until you find them!" I holler up the stairs one more time. "You aren't going to your soccer game until you are dressed appropriately."
He groans at me and proclaims how he has looked EVERYWHERE. Hmmm, I wonder how long it will take him to find his missing shorts. Maybe the soccer shorts fairy ate them in the night, knowing that he has a game this morning. The soccer shorts fairy is mean like that.