Holding the Hand of a Thief

My daughter is now officially a criminal. Her sticky fingers swiped a can of soup from the grocery store because it had Lightning McQueen on it, her “red car.” Of course we didn’t notice this until we were home, one of the deficiencies of the self checkout. And we would have simply returned the item except that she managed to rip the label off the can, apparently she thought it was some sort of sticker. Now I’ll just have to go back and pay for it, oh well. Although I AM a little worried. Initial searches for, “Are parents responsible if their child shoplifts” point to fines or jail time in my near future. But, you can’t trust everything on the web. I guess we’ll find out this weekend. I’ll say my final goodbye’s before I go to the store just in case.

That evening, we were all enjoying dinner (not the stolen soup) and Ella was sitting next to me. I rested my hand on the table between bites when, out of the blue, Ella reached over and took my hand and brought it closer to her lap. She held it for the rest of dinner with this smug smile on her face. It was so sweet, I didn’t mind eating the rest of my dinner with my fork in my left hand. Moments like this break through the routine and give you this epiphany of sorts of how much you really love someone. It was almost like she knew, this could be our last meal together before I went to prison for her crimes.


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