shoplifting

The kids and I were meeting our old nanny at the mall for dinner and she was running a little late, so we took the opportunity to scoot down to Naartjie (one of my all-time favorite shops) to get a birthday present for my niece. In just 10 minutes, Sloane had managed to destroy several precisely stacked display tables of pants and shirts, rip the tags off about 3 items of clothing and peel the size stickers off another half dozen. This is while I’m trying to look for proper sizes in a matching outfit on the sale rack, a borderline impossible feat, while Tagg is running laps back and forth to the front of the small store. 

And then he doesn’t come back. Or answer when I call him. Panic. I’m running around the store, enlisting the clerks to help find my lost son – which they did in about 30 seconds. Apparently the front window is a favorite hiding place for errant kids. Completely frazzled, I pay for the gift along with a few other things I couldn’t live without and we head off to the restaurant.

As I’m pulling Sloane out of the stroller, I notice a pair of pants that were tucked under her bum. Size 3-6 months. She’s shoplifting at 2 years of age. And not even for the right size stuff! Our nanny burst into laughter and agreed to watch the kids while I did a walk of shame back to the store. As I passed the stroller, I noticed a pant leg with a tag hanging out of the bottom. 

No she didn’t, I think.  

Yes, yes, she did. The entire stroller basket was stuffed to the brim with probably 40 pairs of pants and shirts in all sizes. So now my walk of shame is complete, as I hurry down the mall with an armload of stolen merchandise and, disgraced, hand the pile of clothes back to the same clerk with the condescending smirk who just helped me find my lost son in the window.

I will be withdrawing my application for mother of the year tomorrow. 

And, seriously, if she's going to shoplift I need to at least make sure she's stealing the right size stuff!