Instead of Sir Adam the Great (don’t panic, it’s just a nickname I gave him. My son’s name should be Sir Adam the Magician. I think I say “where did his binky go” at least 12 times a day. My son cannot walk or crawl but he can maneuver around in one spot but doesn’t go far.
It’s a known fact that you don’t have to move to lose things. My son has made losing his binky into an art form. He loses it in the crib, in his lounger, in his car seat, in his high chair. When I find the binky, it’s either under him, next to him or on the other side of the room. My son gets a kick out of dumbfounding his mother. He laughs, kicks, and grins when I ask him what did he do with his binky; I’ve never seen a more diabolical binky.
My son’s binky is the equivalent of ‘Where’s Waldo?‘. He’s down to his last two binky’s; still haven’t found the other 3. I know they’re in the house some where — unless they’re in the land of missing left socks.