, , ,

Recently at a trip to the grocery store we allowed each of our 3 kiddos to get something for their “significant other” at school in celebration of Valentine’s Day. That ended with Ryan finding something cute for his girlfriend, Hailey getting something to surprise her crush, and Faith getting a heart shaped basketball filled with chocolate for her best guy friend at school (she’s 10).

Once we got home, Faith deemed it necessary to write a note to her friend letting him know she was glad he was her friend (so that he wouldn’t think she liked him….blah blah blah….we all know they end up going to prom together 6 years from now, but anyway….). In doing so, she opened the chocolates to put the note inside. Then she closed the box and left them on her desk. The next day when she was getting ready to leave, she decided to check on the note just one last time, to make sure she wrote it correctly and it said all the things she was trying really hard to make sure she wasn’t saying (and yes, you read that right).

A chocolate was missing.

She freaked out. After a good review of her room, and her desk, and everywhere else… it was determined that it was either Hailey or Ryan that had taken the chocolate and eaten it. Or hid it. Or whatever. But here’s the problem with the “not me” ghost in our house. He’s lazy and messy.

Our kids put no effort into their lazy stealing of other people’s property. They’re no good at it. And quite honestly, at this rate they won’t even be busted by real cops for theft, it will be by the school resource officer that has jelly donut on his shirt.

Before you judge my lack of compassion or reason here… think back. When you were a teen and you wanted soda and your parents said no… did you just take the last one anyway and then say, “It wasn’t me?” HELLLL NO YOU DIDN’T!!! You secretly snuck one when there was 17 left in a 24 pack. Or you took the skinnest little slice of cake you could muster from the tray of untouchable desserts while your mom was cooking and high tailed it to the back yard to devour the one bite of cake you snuck. You drove 700 miles an hour to get home by curfew at 11, you didn’t walk in at 11:03 and go, “What??? I’m here.”

There is no glimpse of fear in your eyes when I say no, and 20 minutes later you do it anyway. I’ve read a lot of places that people believe it’s the style of discipline that has changed. That people used to be terrified of their parents kicking their asses. And yes, I was terrified of my parents kicking my ass… but thinking back… they never did. I may have been smacked here or there, but nothing to warrant the fear I had. Because maybe that fear was of disappointing them, not actually of them. Regardless, our kids have none. And I find it quite disrespectful for someone to steal a Valentine’s Day candy out of a box of chocolates that is a gift for someone else… from your little sister. Shameful. Tacky. Tasteless. So I am calling you out on it, you “NOT ME” Ghost in our house. And you better hope, you can vanish quickly when I find you out. And I will.