Two-year-old Bea was in my apartment a month ago. She hid the 10 miniature photo books I’d made through the past decade of baby Max, family, and friends. They’re small enough to fit in a wallet (I print them through iPhoto), and I store these keepsakes in a pretty wooden box on my bookshelf. Except after Bea left they weren’t in that box anymore. And they weren’t with Bea. Two of them were squirreled among other books on the shelf. The others had disappeared. I finally found them the other day in Max’s closet. Dagnabbit, squirrels.
Here’s an old journal entry about one-year-old Max in squirrel-mode:
“I am picking up spatulas and tongs all over the apartment. Max opens up the kitchen drawers, rifles through, helps himself to the utensils, and proceeds to walk about with one in each hand. Sometimes I can’t find a measuring spoon or some other gadget, and I have to rummage through his toy baskets to retrieve it. He loves the wooden spoons with the long handles, except I have visions of him falling and impaling an eye socket, so they’ve moved to the top drawer along with the grater and vegetable peelers, and soon I’m probably going to have to find yet a higher spot since he keeps growing taller.
I’m working on securing the beside drawers now, picking out all the loose vitamins and whatnots, hiding the condoms elsewhere, since he wandered out of the bedroom the other day with a deck of nudie cards. I’m tempted to leave the pill bottles in the drawers—provided their lids are secure—as they make good rattles.”
So anybody out there with squirrels? What do they steal? Where do those things show up?