Black Holes. Every home has them. But they normally remain the mysterious, unknown that they are. They typically aren't living - just some random weird swallowing nothing. In our house, it has a name.
Jacob.
And it's very much alive - and well. And active - no dormant season here.
There is nothing random is the items he takes. They are very much thought out. Dad's keys, every one of mom's measuring tapes, the calculator that has been needed daily, knitting needles mom is using to make slippers for orders she's received (yes, I'm making and selling slippers - I'll be happy to tell you more about that soon), lunch bags (though we found one), most favored toys, Dad's emergency flasher, Dad's soccer tools, certain cooking utensils, etc. You can see - the things we need and use the most around here.
Our black hole wasn't always a black hole. He once was just a typical toddler who liked to take things, play with them, and leave them stranded some place. But he could always tell you (or take you) where he had left them. Nothing was truly missing.
Then, one day, he mutated into this nasty black hole. He no longer remembers (or tells us) where things are - or where he last had them. He sneaks behind our backs and takes things he's been told to leave alone. And they disappear. For what appears to be forever.
Honestly - we can't seem to find these thing - no matter how big or small.
Hopefully this black hole will mutate back - soon - and we will no longer have a living, creeping, black hole. Preferably before I have to take apart the entire house, piece by piece. That is not a project I'm looking forward to.
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