Zuzu stole what?!

When I was but a wee crazy pants child I was quite the clepto. Oh the things I would steal... I stole my cousins diary once. Can you believe that? Not because I wanted to read it but because it was pretty. Lany if you're reading this I'm sorry and I promise I really didn't read it! One of the most poignant stories of theft from my childhood was the time I stole $11 from my dads wallet. I couldn't tell the difference between a $1 and a $10 at the time. I was in like first grade. I thought I took two dollars. On the school bus I showed my sister and she demanded to be paid for her silence. I gave her the $1 only because the other one was prettier. I bought ice cream for myself and one of my friends that day. The change I got back I put into a plastic rabbit. It was fuchsia pink. It was an Easter present, at some point it had been candy filled now it held all the change I received after spending 60 cents on 2 ice cream sandwiches. I was so surprised that they gave me more money than I had given them or so I thought. I was so excited to have gotten my ice cream and having something awesome to put in my pink bunny. I went skipping off to the bathroom, jingling bunny in hand. I carefully set my pink bunny on the floor of the bathroom stall and sat my then tiny ass on the toilet. I sat there doing my business, little feet dangling when suddenly I see a strange small hand reaching under the wall separating the stalls. I sat there frozen in time as I watched this tiny hand reach for my pink bunny and then disappear back under the wall. I couldn't tell you today why I didn't kick the hand or jump off the toilet and pursue the thief that had just made away with my favorite worldly possession. I just let it go.
When asked about the missing money I told my mom that I had taken $2 and that I had shared it with my sister. When questioned my sister had adamantly denied such allegations. I think we may have both gotten in trouble anyway. Years later the story was brought up again and at that point I fessed up to my sticky fingers. I don't know if to this day my sister has ever fessed up to her part in the theft.
Oddly enough my kleptomania was never really addressed by my parents. I wonder how different I would have turned out had someone taken the time to scold me properly about that. *Shrug* I remember being told later in life about the conferences my mom had with my teachers. In kindergarten I would steal chalk for my chalk board at home. Why I didn't just ask my parents to buy me the colorful stuff instead of the plain white stuff is beyond me. Instead every so often would come home with underwear full of chalk. Yes, you read that correctly. I would stuff the contraband chalk into my days-of-the-week underwear. Markers were next, candy sometimes. Who knows I stole a ton of stuff. I used to get candy out of the bulk bins at the grocery store and put in the bags and toss it in the grocery cart I was helping mom push around and eat it as we walked. In 5th grade I was on the playground with some friends. One of them had a nutty butter bar that she had left by the swing set with a sweatshirt possibly. I snatched that sucker and ran. What's worse is I didn't even eat it. I went to the girls room and stuffed it in the trashcan. Gawd I was a hateful little thing wasn't I? I'm surprised I didn't steal from the collection plates in church!
Dad worked for a plant nursery and we lived on acres of land covered in plants and trees and it was beautiful. My sister and I spent a lot of time on our own. Mom worked full time and since we lived on the property dad was working they felt safe leaving us at home most of the time.(Silly old people right?!) There was a small administrative office directly next to our house. The two buildings were separated only by the car port between them that sister once set on fire. But that is a story for another day. Sister and I found the keys to the office once and from that day on our lives might never be the same again. We would sneak in there and steal office supplies mostly. Sister would steal string cheese out of the mini fridge the ladies shared. We always made sure to leave our shoes off outside the door just to make sure we didn't leave tracks. Our filthy socks probably left tiny imprints in the white carpet. I'm sure they realized they didn't have mice that could get into the fridge but tiny nosey kids that lived next door. We were never "caught" although I suspect they knew.