My Life of Crime

My children love this story of my wayward childhood. I’m not sure why, but I suspect it has something to do with knowing that I made childish mistakes just like they occasionally do.

My mother says she has no memory of this, but since it was, in my mind, up there with stealing a car and knocking over a liquor store, it is SEARED in my memory.

When I was in 3rd grade, I rode the school bus home from school each day. I came to realize that the bus made a stop right in front of a five and dime a few blocks from my house.

Now, every kid of the 70′s knew that “five and dime” was code language for “candy heaven”, so each afternoon I would stare out the window from my seat and dream of the candy.

All. That. Candy.

And then, as is often the case with the criminal mind, a sinister plan began to form.

I happened to take note that when I bought my lunch in the cafeteria, I could buy an extra carton of milk for 10 cents. I made mention of this to my mother, who happily complied with my request for the extra milk money.

Little did she know I had no intention of using that money to increase my calcium intake. Oh, I was going to buy milk with it all right.

Milk DUDS! Milk CHOCOLATE! Milky WAYS!

I had succeeded in redistributing some wealth and I was absolutely giddy. That afternoon, I sat nervously on the edge of my seat on the school bus and waited for the stop at the five and dime.

I was sweating bullets, and my little knees were knocking beneath my pleated skirt, but I got right off the bus and no one stopped me. I marched straight into the store, with as much pretend confidence as I could muster, and made my sugary purchase.

Oh the ecstasy! I walked home slowly, so I could savor my ill gotten gains. I finished it off right before I got there, threw the wrapper into a bush, wiped my face on my sleeve, and walked into the house to greet my mama in the kitchen.

Success! She didn’t suspect a thing!

I repeated this same pattern every day and I couldn’t believe my good fortune! I was actually pulling off my master plan without anyone catching on to my little scheme.

Until that fateful day. It was bound to happen and one afternoon it did.

I came home licking my lips and wiping my mouth, and I was just shoving my trash into the bushes, when I looked up to find my mother standing on the front porch with her hands on her hips.

She didn’t look altogether happy. In fact, she looked distinctly… livid.

You see, earlier, she had seen the school bus stop in front of our house and she waited for me to get off, like I always had before my life of crime commenced.

Only I never got off.

She panicked, thinking I had been kidnapped from the school yard, or maybe there had been an accident and someone was on the way to tell her about it.

I’m guessing it took her less than 2 seconds to figure out what I’d been up to when she saw me with the goods. Not to mention the horrified look on my face.

I won’t recount the details of what happened after that, except to tell you that I was very regretful and  highly motivated to disengage in my misappropriation of funds and return to my law abiding and chocolate free ways.

So, now you know of my sordid past. Can we still be friends?

*Illustrations by Madison.

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Comments

  1. I can see why your children enjoy hearing this story!

  2. Cute, and Madison did a great job on the drawings! Your story brought up a fun memory, thanks :)

  3. Ahhh kids and their candy! I stole money from my dad *one time* (it only took once) and bought a whole bunch of sweedish fish and stickers at our local five and dime! LOL :) I still remember that :)

    Semalee @ Nailing Jello to a Tree

  4. Oh I have my own criminal past. So, birds of a feather. :) But I didn’t steal chocolate. Shoot!

  5. LOl!I really enjoyed that story!
    I have a story from childhood too, but mine doesn’t involve chocolate which we be far better than going off school property at lucnhtime to play in the woods and getting lost in said woods, getting a note to take home which I put in the trash and kind of forgetting the teacher could phone my parents! I think milk duds would have been much better!

  6. Love it, especially the illustrations!!! And yes, it does bring back a memory from my childhood, only I wasn’t nearly as sophisticated as you.

  7. Hilarious! And it wouldn’t have been nearly as funny without the colorful illustrations. ;-)

  8. You crack me up Connie! HAHAHAHAHAA!!!

  9. P.S. And I love the illustrations.

  10. Awesome recount~!! Loved it.

  11. Now that is just too funny.

  12. How funny!! I remember five and dimes. My grandmother used to give me and my cousin $1 each, and we could fill up a bag of candy for that measly buck! Now one piece of candy costs a whole buck?! Fun memories from the past!!

  13. You were so bad!! :) So funny. It would make a cute children’s book – and Madison could illustrate!!

  14. Hahaha! Great story, made even better by the illustrations!

  15. I’m afraid my view of you has completely changed after this story . . .

    Actually, I was quite the thief at a young age. I stole from the Sunday School prize board, and stole a seam-ripper from a fabric store.

    I very clearly remember the punishments for both.

  16. I love this story! It reminds of a story my mom tells about her childhood when she sold her extra birthday cupcakes to buy penny candy and then made up a lie about where all the candy came from :)

  17. I can’t believe I’ve NEVER heard this story before! What ELSE have you been hiding from me?!!!!!

  18. LOL, I can’t share my tales of mayhem with my kids until they are safely graduated, married, with kids of their own in highschool. LOL. and I didn’t steal, do drugs, or party, oh know I ditched highschool to go to college! :D what a bad example I am…

  19. My youngest child is a delinquent like you! LOL
    Overwhelming temptation gets the best of all of us, I guess!
    Good to know my troublemaker has hope to grow up…normal?

Trackbacks

  1. [...] My Life of Crime – Smockity Frocks Who knew my friend Connie, whom I like to refer to as Smockity when I mention her to my husband, probably caused her mother so much grief, all over a sweet tooth.  Love the illustrations on this post especially. [...]

  2. [...] we are laughers. And funny-story tellers. And [...]

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