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?