There are building blocks in her rainbow backpack in her bedroom and there are hairclips, meant to live in a container in her bedroom, in the puzzles cabinet in the basement. That's fair, of course, because there are puzzle pieces in the DVD cabinet in the family room and when I asked L the other day why the fridge looked so naked, she explained that she needed tthe magnets because she needed to put a lot of somethings in the horse's tushie.
Don't be scared. She's not into rectal probing (that I know of); they have a ride-on toy shaped like a horse whose saddle lifts up to reveal a storage space.
What? Where do you keep your refrigerator magnets? It's totally normal that now when I try to remember how many cups are in a quart I consult a horse tushie.
Her magpie ways aren't relegated to our house, as the cashier at our grocery store who gently let me know my child was shoplifting M&Ms would testify. And she victimizes her school, too, though as soon as I realize she's confiscated something from school property I put it on the front seat of my car, with the noble intention of returning it the next day.
The other day I went in to work early and so I was making the drive, uncharacteristically, by myself. The lovely husband was going to drop the kids off later. There was a guy with a cardboard sign asking for change and circumstances were just right: I was in the left lane so I wouldn't be causing him or me to be a traffic risk. The light had just turned red so I wouldn't feel panicky-rushed. I saw a pile of change in the little not-ashtray spot next to the not-cigarette-lighter-car-charger-port-thingie.
I rolled down my window with a scoopful of coins in my hand and we did our ordinary panhandler/motorist conversation thing.
Me: "Good morning!"
Him: "Good morning! Thank you, ma'am!"
Me: "Have a good day! Good luc--"
Him: "Hey. What is this?"
He was looking in his hand.
"I don't know," I said, curious. "What is it?"
There, amongst a small pile of quarters and dimes and a few pennies, was another coin. He was still figuring it out, but I knew. But the light changed and I had to drive. "The rest is good!" I yelled as I put the window up and drove off.
I owe the daycare's cash register another one of those realistic plastic half-dollar coins. Someone I'm related to had pocketed one recently, and it's long gone now. I last saw it somewhere near New Hampshire Ave and Lockwood, and I can't get it back.