Lost Mitten

“This is impossible. No one‘s solved the Great Mystery of the Missing Mitten.”

Jack and I sat on the top bunk in our room. We tried to think of a foolproof plan. We’d been ordered to find that mitten.

“Let’s look in the garage.”

“Done.” I showed Jack our list of possibilities. Garage was first on that list. Our garage was the giant black hole of junk. It had taken two days, but as we sorted through all those old National Geographics we devoted one day to pursuing naked natives through the years. But no mitten.

“You’d think a red mitten would be easy to find.” Jack laid back on my pillow.

“It’s green.” I checked our list. The basement hadn’t been checked.

“No, it’s red.”

“Green, with white stars.”

I remembered that mitten. Molly had them on during that snow-ball fight three days ago. Then she went crying to mom telling on us that we stole her mitten and how her hands were now all frozen and going to fall off and it was all our fault.

“Are you sure?”

“Maybe you’re remembering the bloody nose you got from being out in the cold too long looking for a GREEN mitten. It made your white gloves all red.” That was quite a bunch of blood. Jack still had Kleenex stuffed up his nose.

“Next on the list is the basement. Maybe that mitten is near the washer.”

We made our way downstairs to the laundry area with piles of clothes everywhere. We started throwing clothes around, searching for that lost mitten.

Mom interrupted us. “What’re you two doing?”

“Looking for Molly’s mitten?”

“We found it yesterday. But since you’re here, pick all this up, wash a load.”

She started up the steps. “Then fold what’s in the dryer.”


W/C 300