"They're downstairs."
"Okay. I go downstairs."
I was so tired, I just let him go downstairs on his own, and was content to drowse while he was quiet. Then I suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a door closing.
I went downstairs. The door to the garage was closed and is usually open. Jet was standing in the middle of the livingroom floor, "Where my trucks?"
"In your diaper bag," I said. "You look."
His eyes got big. He then said, indignantly, "Trucks no in my diaper!!"
