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Key, Key, Who’s Got the Key?

Key, Key, Who’s Got the Key? I reckon that this story happened a little over fifty years ago because my younger daughter, Laura, is a little over fifty. 

When Laura was about two, my sister, Winona, and her husband, Jim, came to visit us.

Well, Winona and Jim were camp-out nuts and they had a right nice trailer. The trailer really doesn’t matter that much until it was time for them to leave.

We had a nice visit and, on the morning they were ready to leave, Jim laid his keys on the coffee table in my den.

After a bite of breakfast and a small amount of conversation, Jim walked into my den. He returned and said, “I could have sworn I left my keys on the coffee table.”

I said, “You did. I saw you. Where in the heck are the keys?”

Then I looked at darling, innocent, two-year-old Laura.

Have you ever asked a two-year-old what they did an hour ago?

Well, the look I received was, “Keys? What keys?”

It’s like this. The spare keys were locked in the trailer. So, in my driveway was sitting a rather large van and a rather large trailer, and no easy escape path.

We searched the house high and low. No keys.

Then, out of the blue, my wife, Carolyn said, “I think I know. Laura has watched me put things there.”

Carolyn walked into the bathroom and opened the clothes hamper. Bingo. On top of the dirty laundry, Jim’s keys.

It was an exciting morning.


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