Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

All of your other children will have written you letters about how great of a mother you are.  About some fun times they remember with you.  Maybe you will have cried a little bit, remembering the good times.  

There were some really good times – remember Jake?

Unfortunately, this letter will not be like those other letters.  This letter will be about that time you stole the dollhouse from Deseret Industries.

I don’t even remember you stealing the Dollhouse, but Steph does.  We are sitting on the couch and it is 11:21 at night, and I have to send this letter to Dad before midnight in order to make the Mother’s Day deadline.  If I finish this letter before midnight, it means I really love you.  If I finish this letter after midnight… I still love you.  It just means I had a really busy day.  

But before we talk about how you stole that dollhouse, let me tell you about how Steph and I saw this lady get her purse ripped off today.  

We were at a coffee shop getting some delicious scones and muffins for the kids, when this little black guy ripped this lady’s purse off the back of her chair and ran off with it.  I waited with the children while Steph gave chase – but the thief ran to a waiting car and drove off.

Afterwards Steph called 911 and the cops came by and talked to the lady who had her purse ripped off.  

One of the cops who showed up was fat, the other one had tattoos all down his arms.  They looked kind of bored.
“What did you have in your purse?” the cops asked.  
“My wallet, my phone, my keys.”
“Hmmm.” the fat cop said.  The tattoo cop wrote something down on a little notebook. The fat cop stared off into the distance pensively.
“Well,” the tattoo cop said, “We will let you know if we hear anything.”

Steph tapped the lady on the shoulder.  “Was it an iphone?” she asked – cause if it was, you can use the “find my phone” app, and it will tell you where the phone is.  
“It was an iphone!” the lady said.

The cops did not seem to think that was a valuable piece of information for the case.  The fat cop folded up his little notebook.  Steph was showed the lady how to use the “find my phone” app.  “You have to type your username and password in right here.” Steph said.
“I can’t remember my username!”
“Just type in your email address.”
“I can’t remember my password!”
“Just use the one you always use.”
“Oh, thank you!”

The cops drove away just as the lady was finishing.    
“It appears the thieves are at a Bruegger’s Bagels just down the street.” Steph said.
“Dear me.” said the lady, and she looked at the place where the cop car had just been.

Steph and I did not volunteer to apprehend the thieves at the Bruegger’s Bagels.  Instead, we rode off on our bikes.  

Riding off on the bikes was my idea.  Steph wanted to go to Bruegger’s.

That happened about noon today.  Now it is 11:21 PM, and Steph and I are brushing our teeth.   Steph turns to me, toothbrush in her mouth, and asks, “How long do you think you would go to jail for a stolen purse?”

Whenever someone asks a question that sounds like a lawyer would know the answer, I feel a little defensive.  I am a food attorney, which means while I know a little bit about water activity, I know nothing at all about how long people go to jail for stealing purses.   Also, there is really no such thing as a food attorney, it is just something I made up.

“I have no idea.” I say.  
“Probably a lot of it would depend on whether it was their first offense.” Steph says.  
Man, that was a good answer.  Why couldn’t I think of a sweet answer like that?
“Hmmm.” I say.  “This toothpaste is spicy.”
“I bet your Mom would know,” Steph says.  “She stole a dollhouse once from DI.”  

Honestly, Mom, I do not remember you stealing the dollhouse.  But I believe Steph, because this is totally something I can picture you doing.  

Because you are spontaneous, and impetuous, and about six other ‘ouses that I can’t think of just yet.  My delightful childhood was filled with hunting gila monsters and riding bikes home from the park at midnight, and driving cars on the sidewalk, and buying a flock of ducks for the house, telling ghost stories late at night about indians, and hunting for spiders in the dark.

If most moms are like lovely roses, you are like a firework.   Just as pretty, but spicier, and more exciting.  

Love you Mom.

P.S. probably no jail time at all, especially if it is the first time they caught you, and especially if was from DI anyway.  

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