Thursday, May 28, 2009

klepto in the hoooooooooouse!!!!!!

I thought about telling you how I woke up this morning. 

Okay, okay, you don't have to beg. I'll tell you.

It all started yesterday when my seasonal allergy problem hit me like a ton of bricks. Unpleasant. My midwife's office recommended Zyrtec, with the disclaimer that if I didn't drink (water) like crazy my milk would dry up. Awesome.

Did it work? Not so much.

So I took a full, grown-up sized dose of Benadryl before I went to bed. I'm still groggy. I way overslept and it was not so good, which translated into descriptive yap means that I had to scratch and claw my way to awakeness. Yes, I know that's not really a word, and I'll refer you back to the dayton time rulebook, section 438.2 which states It's my blog and I'll speak how I want.

Also not good? I HAVE NO VOICE. And I know I shouted at you just then, but it doesn't matter, not just because of section 438.2 but also because I HAVE NO VOICE. So I'm just pretending to yell. Get it?

The short people are ecstatic.

Moving on.

One of my short people ::cough::Wee Man::cough:: has a little problem with theft. A little problem that borders on being the youngest person in Juvenile Hall.

Last week at the zoo, he pinched a manta ray ring, which I discovered too late to get back inside the zoo to return it. Oops. Yesterday he tried to steal a 20 inch long tube of bubble stuff. I caught on to that right away. The lady at the store told him that she would call the police to take him away to jail if he tried to steal from her store again.

And every time we go to the Natural Foods store in town he steals a pocketful of malted milk balls.

I have a hard time blaming him for that. I mean, who doesn't love those things? I'm not being serious about downplaying the malt balls, and I don't joke about it ever, well, except for here, and that's because that kid can't read.

He knows he's doing something wrong. It's written all over his face. He will take anything that isn't nailed down, even at home, only I'm not going to bore you with stories of Wee Man took all the change off my bedside table again.

How do you get a child to understand a) what stealing means, and b) that stealing is wrong, and c) strategies to get what you want without going to jail shortly after you acquire the thing you desire?

Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Jokes about laryngitis? Anything?


  1. Hmmmmm. Do you have a friend in the police force that can "talk to him"?

    Or, you could duct tape his hands together at all times.

  2. I'm sorry, I don't have any real experience on this subject. My daughter once walked out of the grocery store with a fruit roll-up in hand. She meant to put it in the cart, but forgot. She was traumatized by the event, I didn't punish her, she was obviously sorry. It was her own ideas of right and wrong that got to her. Funny girl.

    You didn't mention "punishment" or consequences for the stealing. If you are doing something, maybe it's time to change it up a little? Keep him close by so that you can watch him when you are out? Let him know that wandering away is not okay until he can be trusted?

    Good luck! Mmm, now I am thinking about malted milk balls!

  3. @theglassdragonfly-- I stole some Burt's Bees lip balm from Target twice (!) before it was packaged in a box that won't fall through the bottom of the cart.

    I always make him give the thing back to the person at the store and apologize. But as he's 3, and usually we're about to get in the car to go home, which is at least 20 minutes from anywhere, I haven't had any good ideas for an immediate punishment that relates to the crime. Other than giving the stuff back. And he does get the "Bad Dog" voice from the people who own the stores.

    At home, though, I make him 'work off' the amount he's stolen with chores.

    I'm thinking about malt balls now, too.

  4. I once walked out of a Hallmark store with a card in my hand without paying. About 30 seconds later I realized what I was doing and went back in and paid (awesome security system they having going on, BTW, if I was able to just cruise on out with a card and envelope visibly clutched in my larcenous little hand). All of which has absolutely nothing to do with your problem.

    I have no advice, because basically, I am a clueless and far too laid back mother. Sounds like you are doing all you can and maybe he'll grow out of it before he's old enough to end up at Juvie. (Do they still call it Juvie?)

    Hope your voice comes back soon. My kids wouldn't know what to think if the yelling stopped.

  5. I like ChurchPunkMom's idea.

    I'm not going to be good at this one as I got busted not once, but twice for shoplifting when I was a pre-teen. Yikers, I'm dreading those years!

  6. The only cop I know is Eric and he's more of a boy band looking sort of cop than a scary one. Maybe Brett could borrow some cop gear from his dad. He would be a scary cop.

  7. Tell him about juvi-jail -- my own now-eight year old boy was always scared shitless by even the word. Don't know why but am nervous he has some kind of presentiment of his future. If you live near San Francisco, you could take him for a tour of Alcatraz. Or just emotionally abuse him whenever you see a police car by telling him that you think the cop is looking for him and he'd better duck...


talk to me, people. because you know i get all giddy when you do.