It was dark-thirty in the morning and I pull myself from the fog of sleep to hear my sobbing daughter standing by my bed saying daddy over and over. Like a good father I immediately jolted upright in bed and asked her what was wrong. I suspected she was in great pain, had some horrible dream, really missed her mother or something similar.
"I can't find the purple things." she said.
"I can't find the purple things." she said again.
Not knowing what she was referring too but knowing that if I didn't comfort her soon, this could go on and on, I told her to crawl in bed with me and we would find them in the morning. She did, quickly quited down, and soon slipped out and walked back to her room where she says she is more comfortable. I fell back into my deep slumber.
When morning broke and I went to wake up my daughter, she looked up at me and told me in an excited voice that she had found her purple things and pulled down her pajama bottoms to show me a purple short thing that she wore yesterday with a purple mini-skirt outfit. Last night when we had been changing into her pajamas, she had asked me if she could wear it under her pajama pants and I had agreed. I had forgotten about it and evidently she had too until dark-thirty in the morning.