Lost phone drama

On the way to a friend's house tonight.
Pablo being the usual tyrant he is in the car.
He sits down and I try to distract him with his stuffed monkey, Ramona la mona.
That doesn't work. So I reluctantly give him my phone.

2 hours later as we are about to leave the friend's house,
We realize the phone is amiss.

Find my Iphone, google searching later.
It's gone. The phone is gone.

It's just plastic but I live in Argentina
A country where the exchange rate is volatile
And phones are the last things on people's minds
Who want to feed their families.

So I sit and am frustrated and have high hopes in humanity
That the Uber driver will mysteriously appear and return it.

Nonetheless, I have deleted, erased, reported lost.
I will probably never see it again.
It's okay, it's just a little glass, metal, plastic.
I am on top of things.  My photos are backed up.

It's the frustration of being somewhere where
people are in extreme need, which I have to respect and understand
and not take for granted.

It's the frustration of not being able to comfort or console my wildly, wiry son
On short car rides and so I succomb to abnormal patterns.

It's the frustration of knowing a good chunk of my weekend is now going to go
towards sorting this out.