I firmly believe that somehow God thought my life wasn’t quite interesting enough. Or maybe He thought I needed better blog material. Who knows. I do know that I have never been in trouble with the law. Ever. Now, the second time this week, I was questioned about something. Both times I was with Violet.
Granted the missile thing, that was probably me, but today, it was all her.
Never do I put Violet in a cart when I take her to Rite Aid. Aside that she hates them, she is just so damn cute, tiny as she is, walking around holding my hand.
We got our few items, paid and left the store. My car was parked close, so I let her be a big girl and walk. Ten feet from the door, I hear. “Ma’am, stop. Stop.”
Before I could react, he yelled again, “I have a bad foot. Don’t make me run.”
Realizing he was talking to us, I turn and the manager catches us. He’s out of breath from the ten foot jaunt. Really. Ok, he was older. Maybe late sixties.
“Nice. Very nice. I believe you took something that you didn’t pay for.”
How dare he accuse me of shoplifting. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll show you a receipt for all items.”
“Nothing that’s in that bag. That.” He nodded at Violet.
“She’s mine. I didn’t steal her,” I chuckled. Granted I may be too old for giving birth, but still. Then in that instant I started freaking out. What if they thought I kidnapped her.
“No. Not the child. That!”
I looked down, there sticking out of her blue and red sundress, right near her bosom was a tube of lipstick. I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I had no idea she took that.” I lifted Violet into my arms, reached for her shirt and she screamed. I mean, loud, shrill, one shriek, she clasped her hands over that tube. I winced.
Having solid knowledge of what the little beast was capable of when you took something from her, and armed with that knowledge, I simply said to the manager. “Maybe she’ll let you take it. I promise you I didn’t know.”
He did that ‘hmm’, look to me and said. “Fine. But I’ll be watching. You’re in here all the time.”
Violet batted those super long eyelashes at him, then she shifted her watering eyes to me as if to say, “Great One do something. All I want to do is look like Angelina Jolie.”
Then he reached. Just as his fingers touched upon the L’Oreal Lip Volumizer, with a quick growl and snap, Vicious Violet sprung into action and locked a death grip bite on this poor guy’s knuckles.
He screamed louder than her and tried to pull his finger, but Violet held on. I started moving her from him, but she wouldn’t let go.”
“Let go of the lipstick,” I told him. “Just let go!”
He did and Violet released. He retracted his hand with a look of offense. “I think she drew blood.”
“Probably.” I said. But she didn't. I didn't see any.
Then he said, “Ok fine. She took it, not you.” And walked away. He just walked away. Well, I couldn’t let her get away with shoplifting so I went back into the store and purchased the lipstick. It was awkward but I managed to lean her close enough to the scanner to scan that lipstick. All right, so $8.99 later, I’m an enabler. At least the shade isn’t bad.
I do, however, wonder if that manager is now walking around singing Justin Bieber.