shoplifting

The first time I shoplifted I was in the 7th grade. I was at the mall with my friends, and we were chatting and perusing the jewelry at Claire's Boutique. We left and headed to The Bon Marche (now macy's). I reached out to inspect a shirt and noticed I still had a bracelet from Claire's on my wrist. I almost threw up. My larger-than-life conscience propelled me (in a sweating tizzy) back to Claire's where I discreetly restored the bracelet to its spot on the rack.

Now Max and I shoplift on a regular basis. Max gets his shoplifting gene from his father (sorry to out you honey), who, as a child, spent time in jail for stealing candy from the local convenience store (it was a small town). Max always manages to grab things off the shelf and hide them until we get to the car. Last summer I made several trips back into walmart after finding not-paid-for goods on Max's person. For some reason I never discovered the booty until after I had already loaded the groceries into the sweltering car. Pregnant and sweating up a storm, I jogged back inside each time with Max on my hip. "Do you have a return?", the greeter would routinely ask. I loved to see the shock on their face when I replied "no, we stole this..." as I rushed past them to pay for the bar of soap or bag of chocolate chips that Max managed to make off with.

Today Max shoplifted a foam owl visor from Joann's. I let him wear it around the store because it kept him quiet. He wore it right through the check-out, without the cashier noticing the big Joann's tag hanging off the side. I made it almost all the way to the car before I realized our crime and rushed back in to fork over $1.09 including tax.