The Treasure Hunt WC 269

The Treasure Hunt

My ten-year-old son, Tommy, and I were on a treasure hunt. Actually, he hid a mystery item, and I was supposed to find it. He would give no hints.

“Cold,” he said.

I walked on, poking around the flowers with my walking stick.

“Warmer,” he said.

I kept going in that direction with Tommy right behind me.

“Colder.”

“How can I be colder if I’m heading in the same direction?”

You just are, Mom!”

“Okay, okay.”

A half-hour later, we were at the far edge of the meadow.

“May I ask what you hid?”

“No.”

“Is it bigger than a bread box?”

“What’s a bread box?”

“Never mind.”

We arrived at the end of the meadow.

“Did you bury it?”

“That’s cheating, Mom.”

“Is it something really important to you?”

“Yes.”

“Will it spoil if I don’t find it?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

My son loves chicken tenders.

“I hid it where nobody will find it.”

“Even me?”

“Looks like it.”

“Even you, Tommy?”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice quivering.

The sun was setting.

“Honey, we have to go. It will be dark soon.”

“Mom! We can’t! You have to find it!”

“We’ll come back in the morning. Promise.”

We turned toward home, Tommy sobbing as we walked.

“Mom, will you get me a new iPad?”

“Why?”

“I might need one.”

“Is that what you hid?”

“I wrapped it in plastic first.”

Ten-year-old boys do the strangest things.

“Why would you hide your iPad?”

“Because it’s a treasure.”

And very expensive.

We turned back toward the meadow. Good thing I brought a flashlight.