My Daughter the Thief
My daughter is a thief and a pretty good one at that. One time when we were on vacation, my wife was climbing in the back of our rented minivan (I refuse to drive a minivan under any other circumstances) and while she meandered her way through the labyrinth of collapsible seats my daughter picked her pocket and stole her wallet. My wife didn’t know that the Viper had struck. ”Where’s my wallet?” she exclaimed. ”How the hell should I know?” I retorted, obviously aggravated because I hear that same question like 100 times a day. My wife, in a panic, surveys her surroundings only to find my daughter, mind you she was only 13 months old at the time, sitting silently in her car seat examining her “kill.” My little princess was rooting through her mother’s wallet! I’ve never been so damn proud. (I should explain that my daughter surely took her life into her own hands because G-d only knows what lurks in that wallet. It makes George Costanza’s wallet look petite.
(I dare not look inside the abyss that is my wife’s wallet. Grown men have gone mad after even peering at this diabolical item.)
Well, today I had the day off from my stay-at-home dad duties, meaning my wife took the kids out to play or do whatever, maybe jack some cars, shoot craps, who the hell knows. What I do know is that my wife came home with a brand new T-shirt. However, this wasn’t just any ol’ T-shirt. Oddly enough this was a PINK Mickey Mouse T-shirt that just so happens to fit my little girl to, um, well, a “T.” When I inquired about the shirt, assuming she purchased another superfluous piece of Disney memorabilia (remember, we recently spent 4 days at the Happiest Place on Earth so in case you missed the gory details you can read about them here http://www.steelydad.com/i-shouldnt-be-alive.html), the missus had an alibi. ”Your daughter stole it. She ripped it off the hanger and I didn’t notice the thing until we got to the car and I was putting away the stroller.” Normally, I wouldn’t buy it but considering my daughter’s proclivity for theft, it seemed at least plausible. My daughter, my sweet, beautiful innocent angel, my infallible princess, is a pickpocket AND a shop lifter? Where did I go wrong? How can this be?
Oh, it be!
Steely Wife passed my foolproof lie detector test, which is me looking into her eyes like Larry David does when he’s trying to determine if someone is telling him the truth. It looks something like this: 
I had to accept the truth about the situation: my baby girl can steal with complete impunity! How rad is that?
Think about it. If she steals something we simply pretend not to notice. If someone “catches” us in the act we, very convincingly, plead ignorace. Plus, my daughter is so damn charming no one can get mad or upset with this angelic creature. Trust me, I’ve tried thousands of times. This is so awesome!
I know what you’re thinking and you’re right: she can only five-finger some insignificant clothing items. We’ll have to work our way up to big-screen TVs and exotic automobiles but this is a great start! The girl’s got mad skills.
You know what they say: a quick hand is a terrible thing to waste.
I’ll keep you posted. If you see me on an FBI poster for grand theft just don’t let ‘em know my whereabouts, cool?
Oh, and by the way, during the same outing with Mommy, my son apparently “found” $2. What sort of crime ring is my wife running here? I don’t even know who she is any longer!
(NOTE: All “stolen” merchandise mentioned in this story will be returned to the rightful retail establishment. That’s my wife’s idea. The individuals depicted here are guilty until proven innocent. Please take the gushing descriptions of my daughter as absolute truth devoid of any hyperbole.)
