Monday morning at the coffee shop. A toddler with a pageboy haircut and marzapan stuck to her cheek snatches a sugar cookie from the day-old bakery basket and lifts it above her head. The cookie is decorated like a fairy tale cottage, with periwinkle paint and chocolate shutters, and for a moment, it almost seems like the house is the prize - like the little girl is living some fantasy from her favorite book. But then she screams yummy, and I know she is after the sugar fix, the creamy frosting that melts on contact with the tongue, the cookie so sweet you can grind the processed sugar crystals on your teeth. Mom, she whines.
Her mother takes one look at the cookie and shakes her head. Put it back. She stands, gathers napkins and cups from their table, and zips up her purse.
The little girl looks over her shoulder at the cash register, folds up the hem of her dress, and wraps the cookie inside. And here is the thing. She does not think twice about shoplifting. She wants the cookie, she has no money, and her mother refuses to buy it. When she glances at the cash register, she hardly seems frightened or ashamed. Instead, her eyes harden with determination - empowerment, even. She has made her own decision, and no one can stop her. In that moment, she leaps past the boundaries society has drawn for her - economic, social, and legal. She will not be the innocent child. She will not allow others to tell her what to eat, or when. She will not participate in capitalism.
I am actually kind of rooting for her, silently applauding her crime from my table, when her mother catches on to the plan. She yanks down the dress hem, and the cookie falls out, breaking into chunks on the floor. The frosting is dented and smeared, the wrapper open, the cookie dirty. The mother glances at the register and picks every crumb from the floor, cramming them back inside the wrapper. She lifts several cookies from the day-old basket and hides the broken one underneath.
Ready to go?
Her daughter nods. They hold hands as they walk out the door, co-collaborators covering for each other's crimes.
Comments (4)
A large part of crimes are committed by family members upon each other. You have helped us see one such future crime at it's earliest conception.
*A true blogging comment, lacking factual basis and substantial proof.
Posted by Keith | June 23, 2004 9:02 PM
Posted on June 23, 2004 21:02
It does make you scared for their future. Let's hope it was just a bad day. Nobody's a great parent (or person) all the time... I know I've done worse on occasion, under the stress of kid-herding.
A wonderful narrative, Karrie!
Posted by dale | June 24, 2004 9:47 AM
Posted on June 24, 2004 09:47
I thought this was hilarious. It does portend ill for the future, but the picture you paint with your words is delightful.
Posted by Peggy | June 24, 2004 1:13 PM
Posted on June 24, 2004 13:13
Two weeks ago I took Brooks (5) and Gabie (2) shopping at a party supply outlet store (who knew they had such things??) for Brooks upcoming 6th birthday bash. Keeping track of them in this store filled with every representation of kid-nirvana--look it's Buzz Lightyear!! Spider-man!! Dora!!!! was quite a chore. Oddly, it was something pretty benign that proved to be too much tempation for my son. Next to one of the cash registers there was a huge display of uninflated latex balloons sitting open in a series of what must have been a zillion little plastic cubbies. The balloons were separated by color. Picture one of those grandma sewing boxes, where there is a compartment for everything, now multiply it in size by about 200 in any given direction--oh, and fill it with balloons. It did look pretty cool. On the way into the store Brooks asked me if he could have one and I told him not today because he was going to have so many balloons at his party, and mommy was in a hurry, didn't have money, etc. He asked if he could just touch one and I told him it wasn't a good idea because a lot of people blow them up with their mouths, and it's best not to have little hands all over them. It's just good manners. To make a long story endless, later on I'm flipping through packages of streamers or paper plates or some other such bullshit, when I spot Brooks, inches away from me, with a latex balloon HANGING OUT OF HIS MOUTH. Now, this is where I truly feel for that woman in the coffee shop. Being a parent truly sucks, but it never sucks more than it does in public. We know we're being watched when our kids disobey. What will she do? Scold him? Spank him? If that were MY kid ...etc, etc. While I think what the mother in the coffee shop did didn't set a very good example, I also know why she did it. She was trying to kick the spotlight off of her and her daughter as quickly as possible.
What did I do about the balloon? I bought it, knowing it was wrong to just throw it back in the bin. And when the chick behind the counter inflated it before I could protest (I was hoping to throw it away on the way out), therefore making it a fun thing and not just some shitty uninflated balloon, I gave it to Brooks' sister.
It was the best I could come up with.
Sorry for such a long comment Karrie, I just couldn't resist since I was in such a similar situation recently. By the way, I really like that you were rooting for the little girl.
Posted by dewi | June 28, 2004 12:05 PM
Posted on June 28, 2004 12:05