Penny is on her way to being my trouble maker. She steals her sister’s toys and runs away with an impish grin while they cry only to scream like she’s being bodily harmed with huge crocodile tears when they take it back. She tattles on them by screaming and running to me. Then she looks over her shoulder, shooting daggers at the offender, then back to me with puppy dog eyes brimming with tears. Oh yeah, she’s working the I’m-the-baby angle.
She’s also a daredevil. She climbs onto things, the ottoman, the couches, the kitchen table. She insists on taking stairs walking then catching herself with her face. She likes to look at the dog’s teeth by flipping her lip up while the dog’s sleeping. She looks like a mini lion tamer.
So, I’m anticipating her being my challenging child. Getting herself into trouble as she gets older and requiring a little extra discipline. I just didn’t think the real trouble would start quite so soon.
A few months ago we went to a restaurant. Penny promptly started grabbing things off the table and throwing them off the table into the diaper bag. I tried to move things out of her reach, but there were ten of us at the table, so it was a little crowded. She kept getting things and tossing them in the bag and I kept taking them out. Or so I thought. When we got home and I was cleaning out the diaper bag, I found this:
I showed my husband and we laughed about our little cleptomaniac and how we need to teach her to steal nicer things.
Then, this weekend, we went to an annual Christmas party at Sean’s mom’s friend’s house. Due to our busy social schedule, I was changing all three girls into their party clothes in one of the bedrooms. The room was lined with gift bags and bags full of presents. As I was helping the older girls, Penny was wandering around pulling things out and throwing them into the diaper bag. I was watching out of the corner of my eye and tossing them back into the appropriate bag. It took twice as long to finish changing them since I had to keep putting things away. I had to use that room a few times for diaper changes, etc. and each time, same thing. My little clepto grabbing stuff, me putting stuff away. Or so I thought.
I cleaned out the diaper bag and found this:
Once is cute. Twice is a pattern. Trouble.
(No, I did not return the spoon. I do plan on returning the note cards even though they’re cute.)