Whoa.

I've been the victim of a Jedi Mind Trick.

I used to have a cell phone. It wasn't a particularly nice cell phone, but it worked. Baby J believes that it belongs to him. He points to it and says, "Mine." If I don't relinquish it immediately, he gets testy.

"My. Phone."

And he doesn't even call anybody. He just chews on it, which (just so you know) causes it not to work for a few days. Usually it dries out and works fine, but now it seems to be permanently damaged. That's cool, though, because I have the perfect excuse to get the LG Voyager (or Voya-jhay, as we say en France), which I want real bad. Baby J will not be allowed to touch it, ever.

This morning, I cleaned up for the house cleaners and got Baby J ready for the holding cell for babies educational wonderland known as the drop-in nursery. As I walked out the door, I checked to see if I had my phone. Alas, I did not. It should have been easy to find, because I had removed most of the clutter in preparation for the house cleaners. Nope, couldn't find it.

I made it an hour and a half before I had to go home and ransack the house. It's not like anyone really needs to get in touch with me, but sometimes I just have to tell people stuff. Right then. I looked all over, retracing my steps. No phone. Finally, I looked in the last place I remembered putting anything, Baby J's toy crate. It was right there of course, because it's "His. Phone." That sneaky little Jedi!

Namasté, y'all!