Shortly thereafter, as the girls were eating dinner, Allie began asking for Elmo. When she can't find him, she wanders around the house whining, "Elmo. Elmo," or "Elmy. Elmy." I quickly looked in the basement but couldn't find him. Because he usually just shows up and Allie had moved on to something else, I gave up the search.
By bedtime, he was still missing. I started looking in the bedrooms. Allie's room was first. I searched through every drawer, under the bed, in the closet, etc. I also picked up the games and puzzles the girls had played with while I showered. Allie had discarded one of her socks and I kept thinking it was odd that I couldn't find the other sock.
I hit the jackpot in Em's room when I straightened out the covers on her bed.
Elmo and the missing sock.
For some reason, this amused me. What was even more "amusing" (or baffling, really) is that Allie had done this herself but apparently couldn't remember doing so when he was missing. She can rattle off details of events from over a year ago but can't remember placing a sock mask on her most beloved and shoving him into the blankets on Em's bed.
Elmo fresh from his (pretend) bath a few nights ago.