And the dish ran away with the spoon…

Marvin: There’s a spoon on the wheelchair.
Jim: What, Dad?
Marvin: There’s a spoon on the wheelchair.
Jim: No, Dad, there’s no spoon on the wheelchair.
Marvin: It’s right there.
Jim: No, Dad, that’s a blanket.
(Frustration furrows Marvin’s brow.)
Barbara: Here, we’ll look for it.
(Jim and I pick up the blanket and shake it out. No spoon.)
Jim: It’s not in the blanket, Dad.
(Jim and I pick up the bedspread, underneath the blanket, and shake it out. No spoon.)
Jim: Dad, the nurse must have picked up the spoon and taken it away.
I think to myself but don’t say it aloud: The dish ran away with the spoon.
(Confusion on his face followed by a sigh of resignation from Marvin.)
The spoon issue is put to rest. For now.