I've Been Robbed
I had the strangest experience last night. And, being Canadian to the core, I simply watched it happen and did not want to embarrass the person by saying anything. Let me set the stage.
We live across from a wonderful and very busy park. My youngest INSISTS that when we go to the park we take his 'traccors' for a walk. This means bringing the wagon completely filled - spewing over the top in fact - with tractors and diggers and shovels, buckets and balls. Til now, sharing all these things with the flurry of other children has worked very well. Excepting for the infamous orange ball.
We have three balls in the wagon. One little girl at the park particularly liked the balls and we certainly encouraged her to play with them. As we do for all the toys and all the children. The father was weird though. And here is where the situation got strange.
There is (nee, WAS) a small orange ball in the mix. I know this because it came with a package of balls purchased by my sister. It has come over to the park with us every day since I can remember. The little girl actually plays with a blue ball more regularly. I watched the father pick up the orange ball and put it over with his things. Then he slipped it inside his sandle (I was using my intuitive spidey senses to watch him out of the corner of my eye). Then, he slipped it in his bucket and told the little girl it was time to go home. He STOLE the ball.
Now, I would expect this from a child. In fact, I have told parents that I know to go ahead and take the toy home and bring it back the next day. It is just easier for them than explaining to a screaming toddler. And the toys always find their way home.
Shocked and appalled a the openness of the whole thing, I did nothing. I just watched. In fact, I almost laughed at how bizarre the situation was. So THIS is how it feels to be robbed.
In discussing the situation later with my spouse, we came to the conclusion that he MUST have the same ball at home and did not realize that this was OUR ball. But the step-by-step methodical process that he used to trap then snare the ball in his shoe was practised. Personally, I think we have a kleptomaniac in our community. A ball stealer. And some thought that Wisteria Lane had its share of shady characters. Watch out ball stealer. I have my eyes on you...
We live across from a wonderful and very busy park. My youngest INSISTS that when we go to the park we take his 'traccors' for a walk. This means bringing the wagon completely filled - spewing over the top in fact - with tractors and diggers and shovels, buckets and balls. Til now, sharing all these things with the flurry of other children has worked very well. Excepting for the infamous orange ball.
We have three balls in the wagon. One little girl at the park particularly liked the balls and we certainly encouraged her to play with them. As we do for all the toys and all the children. The father was weird though. And here is where the situation got strange.
There is (nee, WAS) a small orange ball in the mix. I know this because it came with a package of balls purchased by my sister. It has come over to the park with us every day since I can remember. The little girl actually plays with a blue ball more regularly. I watched the father pick up the orange ball and put it over with his things. Then he slipped it inside his sandle (I was using my intuitive spidey senses to watch him out of the corner of my eye). Then, he slipped it in his bucket and told the little girl it was time to go home. He STOLE the ball.
Now, I would expect this from a child. In fact, I have told parents that I know to go ahead and take the toy home and bring it back the next day. It is just easier for them than explaining to a screaming toddler. And the toys always find their way home.
Shocked and appalled a the openness of the whole thing, I did nothing. I just watched. In fact, I almost laughed at how bizarre the situation was. So THIS is how it feels to be robbed.
In discussing the situation later with my spouse, we came to the conclusion that he MUST have the same ball at home and did not realize that this was OUR ball. But the step-by-step methodical process that he used to trap then snare the ball in his shoe was practised. Personally, I think we have a kleptomaniac in our community. A ball stealer. And some thought that Wisteria Lane had its share of shady characters. Watch out ball stealer. I have my eyes on you...
posted by y-vonne at 5:11 AM
1 Comments:
There is an orange ball sitting at the end of the driveway, perhaps guilt overcame him, perhaps he reads your ball. More likely he got home, found his orange ball and realized his mistake.
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