All keyed up over losing my mind

The day I lost my car keys, my 5-year-old proved once and for all that what I really should have been frantically searching for was my mind.
David's T-ball game had just ended, and he was heading over to the concession stand with his team. I stood up from the bleachers and patted the pockets on my jacket and the front of my pants. No keys.
"I must have left them in the car," I thought to myself, completely unalarmed. I walked over to the car and checked the ignition. No keys.
Now I was getting a bit concerned. I patted my pockets again and began to retrace my steps in my mind.
We pulled in ... David got out of the car and ran over to the field ... I got out and went to get a chair out of the trunk. ... (Panic!)
Oh no! The keys are in the trunk!
I remembered I had opened the trunk and tried to get a chair out from behind our big green cooler that had not been carried into the house. Disgusted with the struggle, I gave up on the chair and closed the trunk.
"I must have left the keys on top of the cooler!" I said a little too loudly.
Backup plan
Once the initial wave of panic subsided, I remembered I had placed a key in a magnetic container underneath my back bumper.
I looked over at the concession stand. David was still in line for his treat.
"Good," I thought. "I'll have the keys before he gets here." I got on my knees and started feeling around the edges of the bumper. By now, my plight was less than obscure.
"Need some help?" a kind man asked me.
He got down on his knees and searched under the bumper. "Sometimes those things fall off, even with the magnet," he informed me.
Apparently, that's what my magnet had done.
"You could pull on the back seat," he suggested.
"I'll call my husband," I told him. "Thank you for your help."
My husband wasn't home.
David was now at the front of the concession line.
I hopped in the back of the car and started yanking on the seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see David turning away from the concession stand, nachos in one hand and Slushee in the other.
Sweat dripping down my face, I pulled one more time -- Pop! The seat came loose!
Furiously, I stuck my hand through the vinyl netting strung across the length of the trunk. The holes in the net ripped at my skin as I struggled to get my whole arm through.
I looked like a contortionist as I grunted and groaned, the lower part of my body being crushed by the seat while the upper part was laying on top of it. My arm, straining, painfully through the netting, was grasping frantically for the keys on the top of the cooler.
That's how David found me.
Turning back
"What are you doing, Mom?" he asked nonchalantly as he carefully balanced his nachos and slushy getting into the front seat.
"I ... [pant] ... left the keys ... [puff, groan] ... in the trunk ... [gasp]," I struggled to explain as my arm felt like it was being ripped from its socket, flailing blindly around the trunk in search of the cooler.
"Oh," he said, chomping on a nacho chip, completely unconcerned by the situation.
Taking a sip of his Slushee, he asked, "Are you looking for keys like the ones in your back pocket?"
My arm in between the netting, being ripped from its socket, froze in midflail. With my free arm, I reached around and felt the back pocket of my jeans -- a pocket that I had neglected twice before.
Sure enough, tucked gently inside, with the tip of the keychain hanging out, were the keys to the car.
"Yes, just like those ones," I said with a faint, humble smile.
I pulled my arm out from the netting, popped the seat back into place and drove my smart little saint home, all the while wishing I had indeed lost the keys. The truth was, I had lost my mind. I knew it. The 5-year-old knew it.
Keys would have been easier to explain -- and find.
gwhite@vindy.com