- Dash, it's time to do some reading. Where are your glasses? I remember you didn't wear them reading last night.
- Where did you leave them, Mummy?
- Where did I leave them? I didn't have them. Aren't they in your backpack?
- No, you put them somewhere.
- No. No, I didn't. Are they at school?
- No, I brought them home.
Dash was sure they were in the house, and I was sure they weren't. We'd brought them safely across an ocean and back, not to mention running the daily gauntlet of leaving them in the kitchen of a house containing three teenagers, but apparently now they'd disappeared. (They come with a great warranty. It says that if you break the frame or the lenses, you get the first new ones free and subsequent ones for just $25. But if you lose them entirely, you just have to go and buy new glasses.) I also realised we hadn't put his name on them or even on the case.
I decided to assume that the glasses were in school, hopefully sitting on his desk or somewhere else in his classroom, even though he assured me that they'd come home with him on Thursday evening and I had put them somewhere mysterious.
Yesterday when he came out of school the first thing I asked him was if he'd found his glasses.
- Yes! Somehow - poof! - they were in my desk, even though they'd been at home and I didn't bring them back into school with me.
As if by magic! Wonderful. I particularly liked the poof! part.
We have the follow-up at the optician's tomorrow. His father and I are not convinced that the glasses make a whit of difference, other than perhaps as a rather expensive placebo that enticed Dash to do his homework more eagerly for the first week of having them. Maybe the eye doctor will be able to magically tell something when he peers into Dash's eyes and whirr-clicks the lenses into the machine and asks him to read the lines of letters.
Or maybe his reading is just improving slowly the old-fashioned way, with practice.