There's something about Mommy.

Oh, Ben Stiller, do I ever feel your pain. Well, sort of.

You see, I just lost my lotion. No, I didn't misplace it. I had a misfire and can't find it. I keep lotion in my walk-in closet because that seems to be the right place for it. When I hit the pump, I must have hit it too hard because I ended up with bupkiss in my hand and turning around in circles until I nearly fainted trying to find the goo. I scanned the floor, the ceiling, the shelves, my clothes, everything. The Vaseline had vaporized. I ran to the bathroom and flat-ironed every inch of my hair and then checked my head again. I'm volunteering at school in an hour and want to be spared the agony of, "Oh, Mrs. Morris. What is that on your ear? No. Your left ear. Is that hair gel?"

No dice.

I'm now debating knocking on a neighbor's door and twirling around for them so they can assure me nothing's creamy. But, since they probably all saw Madan race home and pee on a tree yesterday, I'm sure they won't answer. They already know this family's nuts.

So, I'm off to school, wondering where the hell the lotion ended up. My money's on finding it the next time we have guests over and they want a tour of the house. Wherever that sneaky stuff is, I know it's going to wait until the worst possible moment for discovery. Unilever claims that Vaseline helps the healing begin. But, to Unilever I say, "Screw that! Just get your spew crew here and make my search end!"