Sticky Fingers McE...

That will be what they call Ethan when the police knock on our door and cart our child away. Our child who steals.

Exhibit A:
I discovered this little guy clamped tightly in Ethan's hand when we returned home from Logan's birthday party. "Happy birthday, Logan! I'm going to help myself to your toys, buddy!" Clearly he was attracted to the streamlined limblessness of it; and who can resist a wooden weeble rocking the little blue skullcap? I am sure, of course, that the chipped blue paint that's missing from the skullcap is now chilling out, in all its lead-laced glory, in my son's digestive system. Excellent. But you know, that's what you get for lifting some other kid's toys!

I thought it was a fluke. One irresistible, "I must have it!!" But alas...

Exhibit B:
This little piggy went to Ethan's. After we had our play date with Katherine. And he stole it.

After these two incidents, I started paying more attention to what my son put into, and kept in, his hands. Imagine my surprise when I caught him sneaking Thomas the Train figurines into the basket of his stroller while we were at Barnes & Noble. If it hadn't been so stinking cute, I would have been really upset. Fortunately, he found a book that had googley-eyed animals in it and I was able to put the figurines back without him knowing, thereby avoiding becoming his accomplice.

We had a play date today with Abigale and managed to leave empty-handed. I can't imagine it was for lack of groovy theft-worthy toys. I am hoping that perhaps this little phase of kleptomania has passed and my child will grow up to be an upstanding, non-toy stealing member of society.