Or, rather, don’t report B: He’s a thief. A kelpto. A fugitive of the law.
And I’m his accomplice.
I let him steal a pen from Walgreens. You know those two stores that are at opposite ends of the giant parking lot? The ones that are too close to drive to separately, but far enough away that you feel as though your arm is going to slowly detach itself from your shoulder by the time you reach the blissful air conditioning of the entryway? For me, that’s Walgreens and my grocery store. I had to go to both yesterday, so I parked in between the two and headed over to Walgreens to pick up my pictures. I really need to search for a better carrier (a sling, maybe?) because the Ergo is a Nogo thanks to this belly, but B is too heavy to cart around like a sack of potatoes. Nevetheless, I cart. When no one showed up at the photo counter for the better part of 10 minutes (ages in baby time), I let B play with a pen on the counter just to keep him happy. It worked, and after someone finally deigned it appropriate to saunter over to the counter to help us, we were on our merry way….with the pen, which I didn’t notice until we were already back at the car.
It was hot, people. My arm was tired. We still had there-and-back to go for errand number two.
I let him keep the pen, and then I photographed the evidence. Bad mommy, indeed.