Our First Act of Thievery

But a quick side-note this morning. Alida. When I put on my new, tan wool pants this morning with the smart heels and wool sweater (read dry clean only, which generally means I don't purchase them but this was such a good sale), I had it in my head to be careful not to make any messes today. When I was walking to the car with you in my arms before I put on my coat and my heel stuck in the cuff of these wonderful new pants sending me dancing across the driveway, you rolled with it girl. When I somehow managed to dance my way across the driveway, fly into the air and perform a mid-air barrel roll to save you from being hurt when we landed in that snow in the yard that I managed to fling myself and you in to, you laughed. Then your dad laughed and took delight in telling everyone he could find at daycare to be careful because it was slippery today. That was our morning. Let's hope our days go better.

Now. Nicholas.

This is the carryout container from dinner the other night. It had used ketchup smeared all over the inside when you stole it from the table and started stashing toys in it. This son does not keep your toys safe; it keeps your toys nasty.

And. When we all six went to the grocery store the other day, you insisted on having some tomatoes, which we certainly aren't going to discourage. Well, actually we are going to discourage it now. Because at check out when you started handing out all of the items from the cart, we didn't really imagine that you had stashed back the tomatoes. And later in the car, we found you holding those tomatoes, and right or wrong we determined that we support Schnucks enough that we weren't morally obliged to go back (but don't think that when you are capable of understanding the lesson, we won't march right back in that store and apologize and pay out of our allowance. But right now, you get a pass for stealing tomatoes.) So. We promptly forgot about those tomatoes until a couple of days later when I remembered them while at work and tried to remind myself to dig them out of the back of the car later. But I forgot. And then a day or so later when your dad was looking through your stashes for something you were screaming for, he ran across your tomatoes. Again son. This is not keeping your toys safe; it is keeping them nasty.