Evilo: Or What Would You Do?

We pull into the driveway after an afternoon thrift store "treasure hunt".

I needed to get the kids out of the house after every game turned into a wrestling match, with Olive screaming and Elias denying, fighting over Olive's play trailer and whose turn it was to do tricks on the mat, with my only solution thus far putting them in separate rooms on ipads and going outside to plant the new sturdy vines Kathy gave me but feeling guilty that both kids sat plugged into screens.

Oh the joys of parenthood.

We want to find a wheelbarrow for Seward so before buying a new one I thought I'd check Bishop's Attic, a local thrift store nearby that supports families in need. I told the kids we could also look for treasures.

"What kind of treasure?" Olive asked.

"Something we're not looking for but when we see it we know we want to bring it home."

"Does it shout buy me, buy me?" Elias asks, clapping his hands to the beat of the word buy.

"Maybe, but here's the thing, only Mom knows if its a real treasure. You both may see lots of things you want, but wanting it doesn't make it a treasure."

As soon as we pull into an accessible spot in front of Bishop's I can see no wheelbarrow awaits outside and wonder how my treasure hunt idea will work with both kids inside a cramped store filled with random stuff. Both pulling me in different directions so I can't truly search the way I love to in stores like this where you never know what recycled jewell exists inside.

We walk in anyways and head to the back of the store where a wheelbarrow could possibly be alongside bike helmets, golf clubs, and vacuums.

Olive holds her dirty old baby doll in one hand and with the other points to a fake rose and says, "Mom, look a treasure!"

"Nope, not a treasure."

No wheelbarrow emerges in the back so I check the kitchen corner for a tea kettle, another Seward desire.

"Oh Mom, here's a treasure." Olive holds a mug with a picture of the snowman from Frozen. The worst possible treasure choice an over-marketed ball of frozen ice.

"Not that."

"This?' A pink plastic cup with some cartoon character and a curly straw.

"No."

Olive sighs. "How do you know what a treasure is?"

"It has to be beautiful, or practical, or unique."

"What does practical mean?"

"Something we can use. Something helpful."

Elias grabs an overly used penguin pillow, "This just screams buy me Elias! Buy me!"

"No, Bud, sorry."

"That penguin pillow is screaming buy me, buy me. That penguin pillow--"

"Heard you, and we don't need a giant penguin pillow."

"This Mom? This is beautiful." Olive points to a purple and blue metallic throw pillow.

"Yeah but not a treasure."

Elias reaches towards a crowded shelf and grabs the nearest wicker basket, "This is a treasure."

Oh boy, this is going so well.

I try to avoid the toy corner but Olive spots it anyways and says, "Mom look!" And here we repeat the Is-this-a-treasure-no-its-not dialogue with Olive looking carefully and picking items of interest and Elias just grabbing what he can reach and repeating the same darned questions.

I direct the kids to the opposite side of the store and there in the furniture section I find something, but before I reach it Olive points and says, "Mom look!"

"I see it."

A small wooden chair, with a side desk, like I had as a kid and that my parents still keep in the "grandkid room" on the Cape. One I read in and later played school in and sat my animals in and here before us is a handmade minuture version of a familiar relic from my childhood. And Olive chose it too. Of course.

"Its so cute and my dolls can sit on it. Is this a treasure Mom?"

"You know, I saw it too and was just thinking that it might be a treasure."

"It is? A treasure?! " She smiles up at me, "Can we buy it?"

"Maybe." I pick it up and turn it around in my hands. "Because its different and well-made and yes, it is cute. Or beautiful. I'll just hold it for now and then we'll decide."

"No, I want to hold it." She reaches up and I give her the wooden desk chair. She places her bay in the seat and holds it upright.

When Olive uses the bathroom I hold the chair for her but she takes her baby doll with her into the stall, "I dont need help Mom.'

"Ok." Elias and I peek at women's skirts while we wait. On her way back towards us Olive says, "Mom," and picks something up from the ground but I am distracted by Elias heading towards a shelf of vases, worried he will start grabbing glass, asking about treasure, and knocking the whole damn shelf down.

We do a few more laps on our treasure hunt but ultimately head to the cash register with only Olive's new baby chair, no treasure for Elias, or me, and luckily, it played this way as Elias needs next to nothing but Olive would be in full-pout mode if she walked out as the empty-handed one. I pay the four dollars and fifty cents for the desk chair and the woman behind the counter says, "Oh thats cute. Is it a plant stand?"

"No," Olive pipes up, "Its a desk for my dolls."

"Oh, of course," she smiles.

On the way home, Elias asks, "Are we going to get stuck in 5:00 traffic?"

"I think we'll beat it, " I say, and sure enough we cruise into our neighborhood at 5:01, a well planned trip, which brings me to where I started: Pulling into our driveway after a quick afternoon treasure hunt.

"OK, unbuckle," I tell the kids, happy to be home in time to greet Nick when he returns from work.

When Olive climbs out the door, she holds a hand-sized bright blue bear. A bear i've never seen before. A bear she must have just taken from the store.

"Olive! Did you just take that bear?" Of course she did. 

"But it didn't have a tag--"

"I dont care, Olive, thats' stealing and that is wrong."

"But it was on the ground and I tried to tell you--"

"You didn't show it to me. You didn't ask me about it. You hid it from me and the woman who sold us the chair. Olive that's sneaky and just plain wrong." I glare at her with all that I have which includes the former shoplifter in me that knows the shame of getting caught by someone I respected to and chose never to steal anything again. "This is big trouble, Olive."

"Maybe the bear came with the chair," Elias says from his seat still in the car.

My eyes remain on y daughter who is too much like me. "Back in the car Olive. We have to drive back to the store and you need to apologize to the woman and tell her you took that bear."

"Maybe it came with the chair," Elias repeat.

"Olive, I am not happy and your Dad and I will talk about your consequences."

"Maybe the blue bear came with the chair."

"Elias, it didn't come with the chair your sister stole the bear."

During the drive back, Olive sits stoic, watching my eyes in the rearview mirror as I rant about trouble and stealing and police and traffic and the pain in the ass of driving back to Bishop's Attic for a god-damned 50-cent bear.

"Elias you have done nothing wrong, so I want you to stay in the car with Tonsina."

"OK."

And of course there are a handful of people in the two lines from the counter when I walk into the store with Olive's reluctant hand in mine. I catch the eyes of an elder, second in line from the same woman who sold us the chair, and ask, "Can my daughter say something to the lady before you go?"

"Yes, of course."

"Thank you." I hand Olive the blue bear and when its time I tell her with my eyes.

She places her hands on the counter and says in a quiet voice, tears welling but not falling yet: "I'm sorry I accidentally took this bear without paying."

"Oh honey, did you take that bear by accident? Its OK sweetie, thanks for returning it."

Way. Too. Easy.

This fall Olive came home from preschool with toys stuffed in her backpack that we made her return with an apology to her teacher who just told her to ask to borrow something next time.

Not enough.

"She didn't take the bear by accident."

"I found it and tried to tell my Mom--"

"Olive you hid the bear and stole it."

The cashier catches my eyes and when I look up from my five-year-old daughter I see we have the attention of the second, clerk as well as the seven folks waiting to purchase items, and from the looks on their faces, they wait with me, wondering what will happen next.

The cashier nods at me, leans closer to Olive, her hardened face with its lines and shadows next to Olive's soft smooth cheeks, "Nothing in this store is free." Olive doesn't blink as their eyes meet. "And do you know where the money goes?"

Olive shakes her head.

"To people who don't have homes or food. And so if you take things from us, we'll have less money to help others. You always have to pay for everything. But thank you for being honest and coming back to return the bear." The woman looks up at me again. "We good?"

I nod and the onlookers smile and nod too.

The woman I cut in line puts her hand on my arm, "I had to do the same thing with my daughter once." 

I smile and say, "I didn't see it till we got in our driveway and knew we had to come back."

As we walk towards the door, back to Elias who waits patiently in the car with our dog Tonz, the other clerk says, "Thank you!"

"You'll have good juju now, Sweetie!" the first cashier says.

On the drive home I ask Olive, "Do you have a home?"

She nods, still pensive.

"Do you have food?"

She nods again.

On the corner of 15th and Gambell we wait at a light next to a weathered man with a cardboard sign that says: Please help. God Bless.

I look in the rearview mirror and see Olive watching this man who could be anyone, a father, brother, a son, and I don't say another word.

Comments

[Tabatha]

Good job, Christy. I'm sure going back to the store was all kinds of annoying to have to do, but a worthy lesson was learned.

[Elliesse]

Once I did a dollar store shopping spree with my two daughters; they each got 5$ to spend, but the youngest wanted to hold her money and lost it after a while. She returned the items she picked without drama, but those lessons are not the pleasant part of parenthood. ''Be honest'' and ''careful with money'' are valuable ones though.

[Lee]

It sounds like this trip out of this house turned out to be a valuable experience for both the little ones. A very productive day indeed!

[Christy]

My hope is this is the last time we will have to make a second trip like this. When I asked her that night what she learned from the experience she seemed to understand that stealing affects more than just her. And she didnt even whine when she lost dessert and ipad time.

[Kristen H]

Excellent, excellent parenting, Christy. I give you so much credit for both the follow-through regarding Olive's transgression AND for the fun "treasure hunt" idea that was stressful to manage but made a necessary errand into a fun adventure. You win parenting for this day (despite your little thief)!!!

[Danielle]

Great job, Christy. I had to do this too, btw. But what I want to comment on is your son's empathy. He saw that his sister was going to get into big trouble and he tried to navigate her way out of it for her. I know he is making you crazy right now but I think that is a beautiful thing.