Home » Shoplifting Damnit! Not Again! Damnit!!

Shoplifting Damnit! Not Again! Damnit!!

This has to stop.

I inadvertently shoplifted.  Again.

The other morning we took a walk and ran a couple of errands.  One of the things we needed to do was pick up some nutmeg for the zucchini muffins Mac and I were going to bake later that day.

We went crashing into the grocery and made a beeline for the restrooms.  I managed to help Mac successfully use the toilet without peeing on himself or me (unprecedented) we went to find the nutmeg.

And then Mac started yammering about a cupcake or donut.  “Maybe we can have sprinkles?” he asked.

“I don’t know Mac. . .” I said eyeing the spices.

“Maybe if you behave we can have donut?” Mac asked.

“Well, you have been good during this walk. . .and you haven’t had much junk lately. . .”

“We can get donut!” Mac shouted  “First we put a donut in the bag and then we have to pay for it!”

His legs began twitching all euphoric-like.

“Okay. . .Okay. . .You can have a donut.” I relented.  “But this means when we bake the muffins we can only have a taste.  The donut is a pretty big special treat.  Do you understand?”

He gave me a squinty sideways glance.  Obviously I was ruining the moment for him.

Nutmeg is six damned dollars?  What the hell, McCormick?  Where does this shit come from a different galaxy?  What?

And SO. MUCH.  I won’t use nutmeg again until my best friend from college comes visiting during the Christmas holiday and wants some of that shit in the cheap-assed egg nog I force her to drink.

I snatched a container and put it on the stroller sunshade.

Then we headed towards the bakery.

BUT while I headed towards the bakery, I had another thought:

Hey, remember that guy outside?  The likely homeless guy who is always in the same place EVERY DAY.  He just sits quietly and you smile and nod at him when you walk past?  EVERY. DAY.   Him.  


I noticed the pre-made sandwiches.

Get that guy lunch.

Listen to your heart.  Your heart says to get him some snacker-dacks.

I snatched up a turkey sandwich.  Scored Mac a donut with sprinkles and backtracked to the produce aisle for a couple of bananas for the guy.

The check-out area was a mess.

“First we pay for the donut,” Mac chirped repeatedly.

“Yes.  And after we pay for the donut, we’re going to drop off a few goodies for the man outside and then you may have your donut on the way home,” I mumbled.  “We just have to pay for everything first.”

“Pay!  Pay!” Mac squealed.

“Yes.  We will pay!” I practically shouted muscling the stroller towards a self-check out.

The self-check out seemed like the easiest option.

I muddled through.  Even the produce and bakery codes.  . .

We busted out of the store into some really hot sun.

And our friend was GONE!


How am I going to explain this to Chris?  I bought a pre-made sandwich WHY?!  

If I were a homeless guy where would I go?


Canton Square?

We did two laps around the exterior of the grocery.

Chris is going to be irked.  

He’s going to say I should donate to a reputable organization and not just hand out food to people.


Look harder, Deni.  Find. This. Guy. 

I pointed the stroller towards O’Donnell Square.

Be there, damnit.

So.  Much.  Sweat.

Maybe Chris was right?  Maybe I shouldn’t be spontaneously generous?

After a survey of two other parks, we approached Canton Square from the west.  It’s not big but it was feeling HUGE on our approach. . .kids, stroller, oppressive heat and humidity. . .full-on sun. .  .an already LONG walk. . .

Please be here.

We walked about half-way through the Square and I saw HIM!  On a bench.

Be ready, Deni.

I fumbled with the grocery bag.  Get everything ready. . .

Just say something perky. . .like. . .like what?  

Fist in bag.  Grab. . .the. . .NUTMEG. . .Don’t make this awkward.  Just hand over the bag, smile. . .

Say you thought he might appreciate some snacks?  Blame it on Mac?  WHAT?!



Not in the bag.

Did Mac toss it somehow?

No way.

Damn.  Damn.  Damn.

Where is the nutmeg?!  


Frantically, I ransacked the bottom of the stroller.


Shit.  Shit.  Shit.

Maybe Mac tossed it out in the store?

Sweat was pooling on my upper lip as I cranked the stroller canopy back and forth frantically. . .



There it was. .  .

At my feet.


What I want to say is that I marched our asses straight back to the grocery.

But I didn’t.

Because I’m currently toilet training a jerk-face toddler who still pisses anywhere he damned-well pleases and laughs about it. . .And he had just downed 6 ounces of lemonade.

And because it was hot as balls, and I HATE that grocery store. . .

And because I’m obviously a jerk with a horrible moral compass. . .

Looks at shoes.

Bakes muffins.











2 Responses to “Shoplifting Damnit! Not Again! Damnit!!”

  1. sarcasmica says:

    Hey, but did you give the dude his sammich?! That absolves you, my child. Say 12 Holy Hell’s and you are free to go on shoplifting.