1.  Lost

2.  Left

3.  Legerdemain

I can do this, I thought, swigging coffee at 6am as I emptied the dishwasher and put washing away. Son 1 aged 5 woke up at about 0630. I put him in front of CBeebies while I had a shower. Son 2 aged 2 cried. I did his nappy, dressed him, dressed Son 1, did my hair and make up and got them down for breakfast. Eaten. No spills. Tonicked.  Hair and teeth brushed.   Out of the house on time, a Good Morning to the Man from the Paper Shop with his fluorescent satchel, and a wave to the recycling men as we passed them at the bottom of The Terrace.  We drove to School singing Doll On A Music Box from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Son 2’s current favourite. We had enough time to park up the Muddy Path. We got out of the car. “Son 1, where’s your school bag?” I checked the seats, the footwells and the boot.  With a slowly dawning dread, I realised I’d put the school bag on the road behind the car while I seatbelted the children in.  Not the end of the world, but next to it was the Nappy Bag. In the Nappy Bag was my card wallet - bank cards, credit cards, loyalty cards, library cards - phone and purse.  And not even on the pavement… on the road. Six or seven cars down from The House. With the recycling men heading on up towards them only minutes away.

The School let me use their phone. The only number I knew was The Man’s. “What do you expect me to do… I’m in France!” Ring the neighbours, I suggested. He has a new phone and his Simcard isn’t working yet.  I drove back. What’s the worst that can happen, I thought.  I will have to cancel a few credit cards and borrow money from Nanna till new ones arrive.   I can get a new phone. It’s Not The End Of The World.  Son 2 fell asleep on the trip back. I double-parked outside The House and sprang from the car. On the doorstep was the organic veg box. With the school bag and nappy bag, contents intact, on top. 

Son 2 and I had a low-key day. We visited one Wednesday Mum at home, and then went round the other’s for lunch.  Afterwards, I drove into The Town, went to the Joke Shop and bought Son 1 a 5+ magic kit and a 99p magic wand.  I put it in his schoolbag and gave it to him when we picked him up. “Where’s my magic wand?” In the car, I said. “Does it have powers?” he asked on the way back. “It’s a toy wand,” I said. “See how you get on with it.”  Back home, we found the magic wand makes bits of magic tricks disappear. “Don’t open the bag with the tricks in until I’ve got Son 2 to bed. You’ll lose the pieces.” Well by the time I’d left Son 2 we were down a rubber pencil and two of our Find-The-Lady white balls.  The balls re-appeared. Son 1 can just about do a swords-through-the-coin trick, and he LOVES the magic paddle.   “Who was the super-good person who helped us with the bags, Mummy?” he asked.   I have considered the suspects.  The neighbours knew nothing. The recycling men - wouldn’t have stopped to look at the bags.  The organic veg man - I didn’t see his van. Step forward…  someone who often sees us leaving for School, who saw us pull away, and who Knows Where We Live.  I think our Secret Hero is the Paper Shop Man.