Very, very early this morning, 12:53 to be exact, Chris threw open our bedroom door and, in a panicked voice, asked, ‘Where’s the car?”

In my startled, groggy state my brain quickly went from trying to make sense of what Chris was asking, to realizing just how bad the implication of that question is, to panic, and then to confusion.

Chris continued on, “I was really worried about you guys when I didn’t see the car! I thought you’d had an emergency and left! I called the ER!”

My mind said (because I was not awake enough to verbalize) The ER? I couldn’t have even gotten to the ER last night because I let Chris take the car to work.

Then the lightbulb went on.

He wasn’t missing the car at work. He was missing the car from our driveway. The car he took to work. He took the car. He forgot the car. And walked home in the rain. Without the car. And was going to have to walk back to work, in the rain, to retrieve the car he had forgotten he took to work. At one in the morning.

On top of that, he had come home, and instead of checking the beds, immediately assumed we were at the ER (with Jonas in the family, this is not as crazy as it sounds).

He was also miffed that I had locked the front door with the lock that cannot be opened from the outside. Apparently he had needed to jump the slippery wooden gate, in the rain, and come in the back door to get into the house. If he’d had the car, he could have used the garage door opener. Or you know, he could have rang the doorbell, but, hey there was no one home. We were all at the ER.

I love this man. I love that every so often, I’m not the dumb one. It’s rare, but when it’s his turn, he always does the job with a flair.