Yesterday, I listened to Radio Times as they discussed the book “The Art of the Steal” and took calls from current and reformed thieves. I laughed, had a ‘stick it to the man!’ moment and promptly forgot about it once the kids clambered into the car and started to discuss the difference between transgender and transexual.*
Tonight, as I left CHURCH, I was reminded of the radio program.
My Mickey Mouse is gone.
Mickey is my favorite Disney character. When I was 17, I considered him for my first tattoo before being turned down for a summer job at Disney.
Three years ago, Queenie took the family to Disney World and out of all the items I bought, my Mickey Mug (holds about two cups of coffee so less trips for refills) and my Mickey keychain were the two things I bought solely for me.
I still have my mug, but my constant reminder of a pretty fun trip has been taken.
My Mickey keychain has always been a source of entertainment for kids. I’ve stood patiently in line at Wawa while a kid oohed and ahhed over him. I’ve been able to locate my keys by touch because of Mickey’s bulbous nose, and as I looked at his powder blue tuxedo, I plan my next visit. For three years Mickey has been a companion.
Now some child has my Mickey as their own.
This post isn’t about my lost Mickey. It’s more about what the Hell are we teaching our kids if they can take an item that doesn’t belong to them and in a CHURCH at that?
To quote Slim Pickens in “Blazing Saddles”** I am depressed.***
Does a parent not know when their child now has an item that isn’t theirs? About a month ago, someone ‘found’ a Nintendo 3DS. Wouldn’t a parent wonder where a kid has gotten a pricey toy from?
When The Boy rushed into the house clutching Mario Kart for his DSi, I didn’t see either my block writing or the casual scrawl of The Mister I turned him around so he could return the game to the proper owner. When The Teen was The Girl, she decided that my no to candy wasn’t going to deter her from having a treat. Despite the two bites she had snuck in, I had her go back to the store and apologize.
If it’s one thing I despise, it’s a thief. That means you can’t leave your things around, you start looking at people with much side eye, and you feel violated.
This is me, weeping for the world.
* The discussion begin with whether or not Lady Gaga was really a man and if she was, her (hushed whisper) private areas would be seen when she wore some of her more revealing items.
**The scene when he learns that Cleavon Littles’ character Bart has been made a sheriff.
***Not really. More pissed than depressed.
~ Posted on the fly by Mrsrkfj