Reaching into the depths of my couch cushions feels frighteningly similar to accepting a dare from my older sister in childhood.  It’s the kind of dare where you had to close your eyes, stick out your hands and your tongue, and hope that Mom or Dad would come running if you felt the need to scream. 

I have a tween son who is notorious for losing his belongings.  Most recently he lost a shoe insole that I had just purchased to alleviate his continuous complaints of heel pain.  Even though I knew better, I had to ask, “If it’s in your shoe, how do you lose it?”  Turns out, I knew the answer: “I don’t know.” 

We searched all the obvious places – just to say we did.  We didn’t actually believe the insole would be where you’d expect it to be.  Coincidentally, I made the annual decision to clean under my couch cushions after a tween girl sleepover complete with movie and snacks.  What to my wondering eyes did appear?  The insole, of course.  Now why didn’t someone think to check here?! 

Apparently the insole was much more fun to play with (it’s made of gel) than to wear.  Mystery solved.  Lesson learned.  When something is missing, regardless of the category, my new default search is the couch.  I found items there that had been missing since my tweens were toddlers.  And some that were unidentifiable.

If my new default search fails me, I’ll train my dog for search and rescue duties.