So … A few weeks ago, I checked out this cool new girly boutique today called Charming Charlie’s. It’s basically an explosion of costume jewelry (available in EVERY color imaginable), purses, scarves, some shoes … an accessorizer’s dream. In my quest to remove “frump” from the middle of my name, I went there for the first time. Only mistake? Had my 3-YEAR-OLD BOY with me. “Why are we here, Mommy?” left his lips more than once … but then he discovered a pyramid of nail polish bottles in assorted colors. Then his repeated question of choice changed to, “Can I have one, Mommy? Pleeeeeeeease?” It didn’t seem TOO hard to convince him that no, he wasn’t getting any nail polish from me in this lifetime.
When we got home, I unpacked everything from the car, and my little guy disappeared. The house got eerily quiet. He didn’t respond to my calls at first … Then he appeared with his hands behind his back and asked me to turn on the bathroom sink. Ummmm, clue #1.
I looked at his hands and saw bright red nail polish all over the tips of his fingers. I first began to panic thinking about the rugs and furniture (a little slow on the uptake …), which of course I found on the carpeting that goes up our staircase. I found the bottle on a bookshelf in his room, and as I was calling to him “Where did you find this?” I saw that the label said Charming Charlie’s. AAARRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!@#@$%$#@#$%%#@@@!
Trying to remain calm, I rushed back downstairs to explain to him that we don’t just take things from a store – or anywhere. We have to pay for them. Telling a 3-year-old that stealing is against the law is what you might call … pointless. How is he supposed to process that? The most humorous part of the whole scenario was pulling out of the garage to go right back to the store and return the stolen goods. As if on cue, a cop car drove slowly past our house and turned around in the cul-de-sac. Perfect timing for me to say, “Wow, here’s the police man. Do you think he knows you stole something that didn’t belong to you?” The kid’s eyes got so wide I thought they might pop off his face. I know it sounds awful, but a little fear can go a long way!
At the store, my litle guy buried his head in my shoulder to avoid the eye contact of the salesgirl as I explained what had happened. Looking extremely shocked that I had actually brought the nail polish back, the girl thanked us, and we left.
The local police officer drives down our street every afternoon, making sure everything looks normal (whatever normal is these days). My son continues to ask, “Do you think he’s looking for me, Mommy?” I keep saying, “NO, buddy, you went back to the store and told the truth. You did the right thing.” He doesn’t seem convinced. I hope this means his clepto days are over.
The World of Author/Mom Alicia Murphy! 
I’m laughing and remembering your FB comment a while back about how to get nail polish out of carpet! LOL! Love the story behind it, that’s awesome!