Wipes in the Fridge

Annabelle has become obsessed with having a baby wipe with her when she lays down for her nap. In case her nose runs. (Can you tell we live in coastal Georgia, the allergy capital of the world?)

Today while I was getting her ready for nap time, she predictably asked for a wipe. 

So I checked in her room. The wipes weren’t there. 

Next I checked the bathroom. No wipes. 

I checked the living room and the dining room and the kitchen. I checked my room and my son’s room. No sign of them. 

I checked her bookbag. Sans wipes. 

Finally I called my husband since he was the last person I saw with the missing wipes. He told me Noah was the last one to have them. 
At which point my children gleefully informed me the wipes were in the fridge. 

Sure enough, there they were. 


Because that makes perfect sense in a house with two little kids. 

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