Stowaway

MJ and I went on a date.  You know, dinner, a movie, a run to the grocery store to get stuff for the next morning's Sunday breakfast.  We come home, tidy up, check on sleeping kids and animals and head up for bed.  In the bathroom I turn on the hot water to wash my grimy face, put my hair in a pony, and lo and behold!

 What's this tucked into my sweater?

Come to think of it, I had been playing hide and seek with Penelope and her little toy before we left, and she had been reaching for me and fussing when I walked out the door, and I had felt just a little uncomfortable sitting against that theater chair back for those two hours...

 

Gentle Readers, what is wrong with me?  I'm thinking if I dig around in the toy box enough I just might find my brain.