My daughter is 11 and she’s an eccentric by anyone’s standards. She has Jupiter in Sagittarius. Yesterday she walked home from the bus stop with one her pals, stopping in to ask she could walk her friend home before coming home for good, which is usual for her, most days. I said yes and she asked if she could take the phone, which was unusual. But I let her without question because she’s only gone ten minutes. I figured her friend had a cell phone and she wanted one too.

“Just remember if you’re slow getting home, I’ll be at the bus getting your brother.”

“Okay, mom.”

Ten minutes she called me. “I’m here with Emily and Susan and they’re going to walk to the store. Is it okay if I go with them?”

“Susan?”

Susan is a bully who has been known to refer to my daughter as “that lesbian slut” at school, so I don’t like her so much, to say the least. The girl is a mess.

“Yeah. She’s here with Emily and I want to go to the store with them.”

“Okay, then. If you feel alright about being around Susan, go right ahead. Just come right home after though, okay?”

I figured these girls are all hormonal. Maybe Susan didn’t say that. Maybe they made up. Who knows. My daughter it ahead in school so these other girls are 12-13 and like I said. They’re hormonal.

A half hour I’d picked up my son and my daughter wasn’t home. I thought she should be, the store is less than a five minute walk away, but I rarely react to things like this. She invariably shows up within a few minutes. But then I remembered she had the phone so I called her.

“Hello, Mom,” she said in a perturbed voice. I felt a little embarrassed to have bothered her. You know. Let her be. It’s 3:30 in the afternoon, you don’t have to monitor her every move. Except for Susan… I don’t really trust Susan.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“In the store,” she said.

“Oh.” I thought I should not have called. I should have left the girls in peace.

“We’re in a store on…” she named the street.

“What store?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Then it hit me. Don’t ask me how. “Don’t you steal anything,” I blurted.

“I won’t,” she said.

I knew I was crazy, but I said it again. “Don’t you even think about… stealing.” And then I decided to confront her, pointblank. “That’s what you’re there for, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Mosta?” That’s her screen name, short for Mostacciolia. She chose when she was 4.

“Yes?”

“You need to get out of that store. Don’t you dare steal… don’t you steal with those girls. Do you hear me? You will go to jail.” Then it hit me. “Did you are already steal? Have you already taken something?”

“No.”

“Okay, well just don’t. even think about it. Just keep your hands… you know what to do. Don’t do anything you’re not supposed to do.” I realized she was in a peer situation as I was talking. “Just listen. I know those girls are there. Just get out of that store as soon as you can and do with your hands empty. Do you got me?”

“I got you, Mom,”

“Okay, bye. We’ll talk when you get home.”

“Okay, bye.”

I got off the phone and I couldn’t believe it. How did I know?

I wound up driving to the store to pick her up. She got in the car, looking enormously relieved.

“Was this the first time you were going to steal?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Because you go a lot of places. Do you steal when you go in these stores?”

“No, mom.” She looked like her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Because I want to know if you’re a thief. I just want to know. So are you? Do you run around taking things that don’t belong to you? Because you know if you do… I think that’s disgusting.”

“So do I,” she said. “I don’t steal… the only thing I ever stole was one of Nick’s toys one time. I was five,” she added.

“Okay. Well, I didn’t really think you were a thief. But now you are being invited to be a thief so you are going to have to decide aren’t you? Because you are from a family that does not steal. We don’t steal and these girls do. So what are you going to do?”

“I want to not steal.”

“Well that’s a relief. I was hoping you’d say that because I don’t want some thieving kid. Some kid running around stealing from people. I don’t steal and how would you like it if I did? How about I go in the grocery store and steal our groceries each week? Do you think you’d like that? Stand next to mom and I’ll just slide some hamburger…. I’ll slip this meat into my coat and there we go! Your mom has just stolen dinner and tomorrow we’ll do it again. How’s that sound? How about I be your shoplifting mom and you just watch me,” I said.

“No.”

“Well okay. So you are going to be a non-thieving person? Because you realize… I visit people. Friends, right?”

“Right.”

“And I stay in their houses sometimes, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Well the only reason I get to do that is people know I am not going to steal from them. Do you understand this?”

“I do.”

“And you’re not going to be a thief then? Because if you are, no one is going to want you around. You have to just think about what you’re doing. You just don’t take things that aren’t yours.”

“I know.”

“Then you’re going to have to identify yourself as a non-stealing person. Which means when these girls ask you if you want to come steal with them… well if they asked me, what would I say? I would say, go ahead if you want. I’m not coming because I am not a thief. It’s just a simple thing. You either take things that don’t belong to you, or your don’t. You are either a thief… or you don’t go around helping yourself to whatever you want. Because you will get caught and if you do, don’t think for one minute I’m going to bail you out, because I won’t.”

“You won’t?”

I laughed. “Absolutely not. The police call me? What do you think I’m going to do? Tell them, go easy on my daughter. She’s blah, blah, blah. No way! I’m going to tell them that you know better than to steal and if they caught you stealing, they should give you the absolute worst punishment they can.”

She laughed.

“And when they tell me to come get you, you better believe I’ll be taking my time. Do you understand? I will be driving very slowly. And I’ll be making stops too. Because I will be in no hurry to pick up my little thief, will I?”

She got it, but here’s the kicker:

Later that evening she described her experience:

“The whole way walking there, I was praying.”

“Praying? Praying what?”

“That the right thing would happen.”

“Like what?”

“Like if I got caught or did not get caught, that it would be the right thing.”

“Okay, good. That sounds good. And you were wondering if there was a God, so now I guess you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean? Your mother called you mid-shoplift. You got busted before you even had a chance to mess up. Never mind you had the phone on you so it could happen. You want God? There’s your God.”

That was yesterday. Today she wrote this story for her language arts class. This is my version. In her version, she tells the other girls, “my mom is on to us.” and they gasp.

The truth, God, and stories are all Jupiter-ruled…

The End