Except it was spoons, forks and plates, not people. And it was only at the homes of people who have a certain type of resident: High school and college-age students.
It's chilling. And it happened to us.
Mrs. Brad and I noticed it a few years ago. Our silverware, which we got as wedding gifts in the last millennium, started to disappear. First was spoons.
Then forks.
Making it worse? The gradual disappearance of a few plates.
What in the world? Where did our stuff go?
The first option of course is to check to see whether the hired help was stealing our silverware. The only problem was we had dismissed most of the servants during the Great Recession, when we had to cut the household staff to the gardener, my driver and our washer woman.
So we took the next obvious step: We asked our sons. They were in high school, the age where we were beginning to trust them to take food into their rooms (with the stern warning that mice and rats would come after any uneaten food left on plates). Perhaps they had some spoons, forks and plates in their rooms.
They had kitchenware in their rooms, but not nearly enough to explain all that was missing. When pressed, they said they were sure they hadn't lost silverware.
Silverware?
Missing?
Us?
No, we always return it.
We knew that wasn't really true, since Mrs. Brad and I had both seen plenty of dirty plates with silverware – and even some food (mouse food!) left in their rooms: Bowls with dried ramen noodles. Hardened cereal.
But when their rooms were cleaned and the silverware and plates were all in the dishwasher, a kitchen inventory revealed the truth.
We were down at least two plates. And we'd gone from 10 spoons and forks to three or four of each.
What was happening? Was a terrorist sneaking into our house and taking spoons and forks? Was someone using a giant magnet to suck them away? If so, how did they avoid knives? Were aliens harvesting our silverware to power a return trip to their planet?
We were baffled. Our sons insisted that they were innocent. The silverware was gone.
Then we talked to some friends and found the same thing happened to them.
They were down to a few spoons and forks. The plates were gradually disappearing. And they had kids of about the same age as ours.
The reason was obvious. There is obviously some mathematical formula that combines the age of your live-at-home children with the number of forks and spoons. As the kids get older, silverware disappears. It's not their fault, it's just math.
Now I joke with young parents: "Sure, it's hard now, but wait until the spoons go!" They look at me like I'm crazy, but just wait. They'll see.
I realize that the disappearing silverware is God's way of making sure kids move out. If ours stay much longer, Mrs. Brad and I will be forced to eat with our fingers out of pans – which only happens now when Mrs. Brad is out of town.
Look at it this way: At some point, we'll lose two occupants of our house, but gain some spoons and forks. I'll miss my sons, but you know the old saying: It's great to have kids, but they're not much help when you're eating a bowl of ice cream.
Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.
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