You people are silly, you know. I appreciate all the "Au Revoirs" from Wednesday but I never said I wasn't going to blog any more until the baby came. What I said is that I wasn't going to knock myself out thinking of blog posts since my mind has been a pleasant blank. I thought that meant I wouldn't have much more to say than a few sentences a few times a week, but . . .
That was before I knew about our awesome Family Home Evening coming up on Monday. We're staging an intervention. It's the first one I've ever been a part of and I'm both nervous and excited.
It's for our two-year-old, Grant. Turns out he has a serious problem with kleptomania. We're going to be proactive and invite all of our relatives and neighbors over to confront him and love him toward healing. I think he'll appreciate it!
I mean, he's been a full-fledged klepto for almost two weeks now and I bet he's ready for a change. It started on our weekly grocery trip. Grant likes to ride in the race car cart, so he's not directly in my line of sight. Well, the back of his head is, but the back of his head isn't stealing things. His sticky fingers are.
Anyway, all was well until we got to the check out stand. Everything had been rung through and then I realized that somehow my toddler had managed to snag a package of magnetic ABCs, the ones that go on the fridge, and open them, then strew them throughout his race car with abandon. I figured this out when he held out a magnet to me and said proudly, "P!" And after I praised him for knowing his letter P at age 2, I ponied up another couple of bucks for our third (count it: THIRD) set of magnetic ABCs.
Last week, I was a little more wary. I had him in front of me in the Target cart where I could keep my eyes on him at all times. I was careful to keep those sticky fingers out of reach of any shelves including the tempting ones that line the check out lane. I watched the conveyor belt and figured we had it made. Until I got home and unpacked my bags to discover an unexplained shiny new pizza cutter at the bottom of one. The people at the return desk laughed themselves silly on Wednesday when I explained that the toddler had snitched it. And here's the crazy part: it didn't even show up on a receipt. The kid is GOOD.
For this week's shopping trip, I was on to him. We hadn't even made it through the bakery before I realized that he had captured a four pack of caramel apple dippers and was busily trying to liberate them from their cardboard prison. This was an especially proud moment for me because I caught him even though he was in the race car cart. I know: super fine parenting, right?
So Monday's intervention should be fun. I mean, granted, he doesn't really have enough words to figure out what the h*** we're talking about, but I'm sure all the arm-waving, tears, and flood of pleading will make an impact.
Do they have rehab for two-year-olds?
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13 comments:
I think you should send him to Jack Bauer Boot Camp.
I hope you take pictures and videos and send it to the intervention show. I'm pretty sure that will be the most heart wrenching intervention episode ever created. You could make millions.
Just sayin'.
I'm seeing the teaser now: "The Jacobsens, a quiet suburban family, lived a secret double life with their two-year-old Heister. Stay tuned for... The Master Thief." Season 1 theme music generously provided by Phil Collins, since you've confessed how much you love him in a previous post.
I have a very distinct memory of a conversation by 18 month old twin sister and I had when I was, er, 18 months old all about being modest and why babies don't have to be. Believe me, your two year old understands what you're saying. (Why are you still here? Does this mean I lose?)
Back in the old days, we had Sunday School in the morning, and Sacrament Meeting in the afternoon. I remember getting to Sacrament Meeting when I was maybe 4, and quietly slipping the lemon drop I had shoplifted that day into my mouth. My dad caught me and asked me where I got it. I confessed I had taken it from the grocery store we had been to earlier that day after we had gone out to lunch. He made me go back and confess my iniquities to the store owner.
It wasn't until I was an adult that it occurred to me to ask my dad, "Um, why were we eating out and grocery shopping on SUNDAY anyway?? YOU, Father, are an ACCOMPLICE in my crimes!!"
You might want to remember that, Mel. After all, you were driving the getaway car, every time.
My little guy did the same thing, but with fingernail polish (really awful shades of it too). We had a long talk with him. He doesn't do it anymore and is super embarrassed that he did when he was little. (Probably because we all giggle when we talk about it.)
I remember my younger brothers coming home with matchbox cars and broken pieces of shelving and stuff. My mom always made them take every single piece back.
Love the intervention idea.
The magnetic letters are just neon signs for baby-kleptos. Let's face it. That one's a problem of the establishment.
Um ... straight jacket?
I FIND THIS POST HILARIOUS TO THE NTH DEGREE.
Yikes, intervention...already.
thank goodness he is only 2..plenty of time for recovery.
I know you love to write.
You might want to check out this Blog site ---as he too is a writer, and his last post about writing was pretty interesting. I thought about all my WRITER friends.
I think he is quite interesting.
in your "down" time, you may want to check it out ---it is probably some kind of "writing fraternity/sorority that all you writers have??"
billcoffey.com
He is a former Mennonite.....his blog is named What I Learned Today.
oops!!!!!!!!!!]
CORRECTION
billycoffey.com
Glad to know my kids aren't the only ones. Although I think my kid may be more advanced as he managed to get a balloon on a stick out the door past not only me but the check out people as well!! Good thing the kids don't have blogs at this stage to give eachother tips!!
Oh this is hysterical! Please try and follow up and let us know how it went. Unless of course you sent him away for re-programming.
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