Some of you may have noticed that I secretly read Highlights magazine on occasion. Or you may have not, but after this post any shreds of an adult reputation I may have had will be completely gone anyway.
I was reading the February issue of Highlights today (it's called procrastination, or something), and I came upon a story entitled "The Lost Mittens." It involves a small child named Matt who wants to go out and ride his new sled (this child has snow, unlike some of us) but cannot find his mittens. Are they on the table? No, they are not. Are they by his boots? No, they are not. They are not in his dresser or under his bed.
Finally Matt looks out the window and espies the snowman he had so deftly created the day before (it is either a very small snowman or he had a lot of help, but apparently these kind of details aren't important to the narrative). The snowman is sporting two mittens. In fact, it is sporting the very mittens that our young protagonist needs to ride his sled.
The story ends with this description of the snowman's stickwear, and says, "That's where his mittens were!"
Now I don't know about you, but it seems to me that this story is lacking some serious resolution. Yeah, the kid found his mittens, but did anyone else notice that where his mittens were wasn't the original problem? The original problem was that he wanted to ride the sled and needed something to wear on his hands. Now he's found his mittens, but they're outside and all cold and stiff and icy, so he still has nothing to wear on his hands when he goes sledding. The original (reasonable) problem was replaced by another one, and the second problem was answered but the first was not.
This bothers me.
I mentioned this to Virginia, who replied, "They thought kids were stupid! But HA, you can't fool them, because you, the 20-year-old, figured it out!"
Since I can't save myself now, I will end by saying that Virginia also secretly reads Highlights. Now we're even.