January 6, 2013

life of crime: follow up

As a follow-up to last night's blog post, and in case anyone feared that I had not yet overcome my youthful theft antics, please see the photo below. I'm happy to report that I returned to the scene of the crime today and paid a whopping $8.98 for the little radio.

The nice girls at Indigo thanked me for my honesty, and we briefly traded stories of accidental theft. It seems that Lady M and I are not alone!!

Have a good night!

January 5, 2013

and so begins a life of crime...

I need to share something that may shock you, especially those of you who know me well. But, I think the time has come and I need to come clean. Here it is: when I was five, I began a life of crime. Petty theft to be exact. And as of today, I fear my oldest daughter may be following in my troublesome footsteps...

Allow me to take you to my kindergarten room. The year was 1986ish and I spent every day in my classroom that was filled with toys, a piano and chattering children. One day I went to my cubby at the back of the room where we kept our recess snacks. I reached for mine but the vast cubby was empty; no granola bar that I had been eagerly anticipating. Apparently I had a grumbling stomach because at that moment I made the choice to reach into a different cubby, near mine I presume, and take the unassuming homemade peanut butter cookies that sat there waiting for another child.

When peanut butter cookie boy (PBCB) went for his snack, sadly, he found that his succulent goodies had been taken from right under his nose. He promptly told our teacher, who then asked the class if anyone knew what happened to said cookies, and all of the class shook their head 'no'. I shook my head the same way, keeping my deep, dark secret to myself.

That night I went home and told my mum that someone had stolen PBCB's cookies. "That's terrible", she said to me in her best mum voice. "Who would do such a thing?!" "I have no idea", came my weak reply. So weak, in fact, that I promptly burst into tears, and between sobs confessed my crime to my mum. "It was me! I stole PBCB's cookies".

So my mum did what any good parent would do and made me call up PBCB to firstly apologize for my wrongdoing. Then, I was told I must ask him what his favourite cookie was. That night she and I baked a batch of homemade peanut butter cookies and took them to him the next day at school, a clear apology for my bad behaviour. I had surely learned my lesson, my guilty conscience making me feel like a terrible person.

And you'd think I'd tell you that I never did it again...but that would be a lie.

Two years later, now seven years old, I'd had a clean record since the great cookie heist of '86. I was with my mum and brother and we were heading to a little delicatessen that we often went to in our town. After collecting our groceries we headed for the checkout where they had a large jar of small candies and gummies with a clear sign that read something to the effect of "Take Only One Candy, Kristin". As you may have guessed, I covertly took a couple of extras.

Driving home in the car my brother looked into the backseat where I was and said "Mum! Why is Kristin still chewing? How many candies did you take???", disdain (and jealousy) evident in his 10-year-old voice; guilt rising up in my chest. When mum peeked back to see that I had obviously taken more candies than the one that I was supposed to, she once again led me down lesson lane. She immediately turned the car around and headed straight back to the delicatessen, took me inside to the cash and asked me to apologize to the woman for taking more than my appropriate candy allotment. I apologized, and my mum offered to pay for the others.

Now here's the kicker - the woman said ok, and made my mum pay 10 cents per candy! 40 cents later we were out the door again, and I had paid my debt. Well, mum had. In all honesty, I always imagined that they had my head shot up in that little bakery so staff could easily identify me in case I ever returned. I didn't return until I was in my early twenties.

And that's truly the end of my early path of crime. I have never taken anything again in my life, and in fact, I have the most guilty conscience of all time. If I so much as feel like I said something that may have slightly offended someone I just feel terrible. Now perhaps I'm a bit too sensitive, but I like to think that I'm instilling my post-seven-year-old morals into my two children. However that was drawn into question this afternoon.

We had a birthday party to attend for my friend's daughter today, and being the self-professed procrastinators that we are, Cal and Lady M headed out to pick up the birthday present at Indigo near our house while I packed up everything we needed with Lady A at my side. After traipsing around the store, getting what they needed and paying (yes, paying), Cal and Lady M headed back to the hockey store where Lady M's new skates were being sharpened. (Did I mention it was a skating party?) As they headed to the next store Lady M said "oh no! Daddy, I forgot I had this!". Enter: the stolen radio, clutched in her little hand.
It's probably about three inches wide, and two inches tall, and my little lady walked right on out of the store with it. Oops! Thankfully, she quickly told her daddy about her mistake, but as I mentioned we had procrastinated a slight bit and were due to leave immediately for the birthday party. This is why I have a picture of the offending radio. They didn't have time to go back and return it, so that's on my agenda for tomorrow.

So I don't think she's really headed for a life of crime, and I'm clearly not since I'm planning to return it as soon as the store opens again, but I hope you will heed my tale. Don't steal...it's bad.

Clearly that moral has been well ingrained in my head. Thanks Mum.

January 4, 2013

cutting the curls

This week my baby girl, Lady A, hit her 20-month 'birthday'. She has a vocabulary that is growing by the minute - baby, mine, no, mama, da-yee (daddy), up, more, bum, bubbles and "ho ho ho" being some of her favourite right now. She's starting to string small sentences together - mine baby, no gaga (our dog, Dakota) more bubbles mum (for the show Bubble Guppies) and juice peas! With her combination of sign language and vocabulary she's starting to communicate really well.

She thinks she is absolutely hilarious, and she truly is. She makes us laugh all the time with her silly faces, extended games of peek-a-boo and her endless laughter. For a little one her age she has hit all the appropriate milestones. But, there was one big thing we've been holding out on - her first haircut.

You see, my little Lady A has these beautiful curls and as a mum with straight hair I'm completely hesistant to cut them for fear that her hair might lose all it's natural bounce and turn straight. But, I knew the time had come - she was getting a little shaggy all over, and I've always felt terribly for girls whose baby pictures look like they had a genuine mullet. I swore when I had my first daughter that I wouldn't have a baby girl with a mullet!

Lady M had her first haircut when she was about 366 days old, immediately after her first birthday becuase her straight locks were quickly heading the way of the mullet. However, I let Lady A go quite a bit longer. But this week we bit the bullet and took her to the salon for her first trim. Thankfully, I trust our family stylist 100% and knew that she would ensure some curls stuck around.

So here's the before hair; a little shaggy, with her beautiful auburn curls:

And here's the after, all trimmed up!

In truth, it doesn't look terribly different! The curls are all still in tact, she just looks a little tidier; still cute as a button.

We've made it through one more milestone, and Lady A sat in the chair like a champ. (She had a little coaching from her big sister who showed her where to sit, the dinosaur cape she'd be wearing, and how the chair swiveled, of course!)

So, my little sweetie is all trimmed up, and I'm happy that we finally had it done. Onto the next milestone!