My Single Mom Life

I am so incredibly tired right at this moment, my insomnia from last night is catching up big time right now, but no, no time for that!
I need to get out to the kitchen and finish the silverware, then start dinner, and then help Mark figure out which of his secret hiding places, he hid his new pens that he got for his birthday.

My sister got him this really cool pen and digital pencil set for his birthday, he's a connoisseur of fine writing instruments, he finds some really nice pens sometimes, so sis got him his very own set.
They are heavy weighted, and wrapped in a silk red and black dragon print.
They are very nice.
But he put them in one of his secret hiding places, then took them out and used them, then put them in a different hiding place, took them out of there and used them, and then put them in another hiding place.
And now he can't recall which of his many little hiding places around this house he hid them last.
He wants to take the pen to school tomorrow, so he wants to find them and is freaking out because he can't remember where he put them.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to help a kid find his stuff in secret hiding places, if he won't tell you where the secret hiding places are?
See, if he tells me, then they won't be secret anymore, but mom, omg, help me find them!
Hahahaha
I have to laugh every time he says help me because he won't tell me any of the spots.
Then he gets mad because I'm laughing, and I'm trying to help him see how illogical he's being.

"Son number one-o, how can I help you find them in their secret hiding places, if you won't tell me where any of the secret hiding places are? You're getting mad at me for not helping you, but I can't my funny little man with the multiple secret hiding places, because I don't know where the secret hiding places are."

And then he got mad, stormed out of the room, and yelled, "You're not helping me any!"
And I laughed again.
I couldn't help it.
So I did the only logical thing I could think of without having to make him tell me any of the spots.
I asked him to try and re-trace his steps from the last time he used them.

That's when he gave me the teenage eye roll of death.
Moms, you all know that eye roll, one eyebrow up, one down, and the eyeballs go so far back in their heads, you think they're about to pass out.
We've been off and on looking for about an hour now, no luck yet, I hear him in his room mumbling something about mom, my special pens, dammit, where did I put them, crap, and a few other choice words.
I'll go back to helping him find them after I finish the dishes and start the burger for the enchiladas in the skillet.
Yup, enchiladas for dinner, Sebastian insisted.
Okey dokey pokey.