My Daughter is a Thief and a Liar

Teaching our children right from wrong is a bumpy road

As parents, we want to believe that our children are perfect, good, and virtuous, and that our diligent efforts to teach them right from wrong will pay off. Sometimes, in spite of our efforts – or maybe because of them - they stumble.  Part of life is learning lessons the hard way, for we know that the painful lessons are often the most lasting ones. The point is not to remove all temptations from our children, but to be there to catch them when they fall and gently put them back on track. Being wise adults who have been bruised and scarred as we’ve gone astray in our youth, we know how life works, but somehow we naively hope that our children might take all our advice to heart and be spared some of the pain.

But who are we kidding? Of course it doesn’t work that way. My daughter broke two of the ten commandments in one fell swoop during a vacation at Lake Tahoe. My husband and I had spent the week with my parents and our six year-old twins, Kelsey and Tyler, doing what you normally do when near a large body of water in the mountains: rafting, swimming, catching crawdads, jumping off the pier, playing baseball, riding bikes, rollerblading, and exploring. One evening some friends of my parents came over to visit and complimented me on how pleasant and well-behaved they were, so I was feeling like my coaching was paying off, in spite of the fact that if often seemed like nothing was taking root in their conscience. 

Then something happened that rocked my smug satisfaction. One evening a storm blew in bringing thunder, lightning, rain, and chilly temperatures, so the next day we took the tram to the High Camp at Squaw Valley to go ice skating on the covered rink. After a fun-filled afternoon with only a few spills and bruises, and general success at mastering thin blades, weak ankles, and slippery ice, we got ready to take the tram back down the mountain.  While my husband and Tyler were in the bathroom, Kelsey and I browsed through a gift shop. I told her that since we just spent a lot of money on lunch, skating, and the tram tickets, I was not going to buy her anything. I quickly tired of window shopping, so I sat down while Kelsey finished her browsing. Once the rest of the family joined us, we took the tram down, and then drove back to the cabin.

Later that evening, while turning down Kelsey’s bed, I found a keychain under her pillow with the price tag still on it. It was one she had admired earlier in the gift shop. My heart sank – all I could think was that my daughter is a shoplifter!

She must have taken it after I left the gift shop and slipped it into her pocket. Here’s my test as a parent – how will I handle this? Since she is six, I can’t rationalize this transgression as an innocent mistake made out of ignorance – like a two-year old who picks up a piece of candy from the tempting checkout line – because she is old enough to know that stealing is wrong. Even though we talk a lot about how mom and dad work to earn money to buy things for our family, and it’s not right to take things from stores without paying for them because that’s stealing, I don’t think my kids fully understand the value of money. ATMs and credit cards confuse the issue even more – ATMs are machines that give you money, credit cards are fake money, and sometimes the clerk even gives money back to you!

OK, take a deep breath. I tell myself to react stronger than if she had just tracked mud into the house, but not to overreact or she will be intimidated by my anger and miss the point of the lesson. I tentatively walked into the next room where Kelsey, Tyler, and my husband were sitting.

Me, holding up the keychain:  “Kelsey, where did you get this?”

Kelsey, in a tiny, scared voice: “Someone gave it to me.” (Oh no, a lie on top of a theft!)

Me, in the most non-accusatory tone I could muster: “No one else was in the gift shop with us, and a stranger wouldn’t just give you something for free. Did you take it from the gift shop after I left?”

Kelsey: nodding, with a look of absolute terror on her little face as the realization of what she had done set in. She was like a deer caught in the headlights wondering what fate will soon befall her. I wanted to grab her and hug her tight, but I knew I had to make my point first, and then console her later.

Me, time for sermonette: “Kelsey, you know that everything in a store costs money, and it is wrong to take things without paying for them. That is stealing, and you can go to jail for doing that.” Never mind that no six year-old who steals a $3.95 keychain would ever see a jail cell, but she didn’t know that and I was trying to make a lasting impression. “I am disappointed that you would steal something from a store. Remember, I don’t always buy something for you every time we go to a store. And when I say I’m not going to buy anything for you this time, it doesn’t mean you can just take what you want instead. What you did was wrong. I’m not mad at you, I just want you to promise me you will never do it again. Do you understand me?”

Kelsey’s small face was contorted into remorse and guilt and ready to burst into tears at any second. She could barely muster a nod. Me, now time to reassure her: “Even though you did a bad thing, you are not a bad person, and I still love you very much.” Kelsey’s body quivers with quiet sobs. My heart aches for her. I know that she has learned her lesson. Time now for the world’s most comforting hug.

On our drive home two days later we stopped at Squaw Valley and returned the keychain to the gift shop. I told Kelsey that I would hand the keychain to the clerk, but she had to come in with me.

Me, to clerk: “We were here on Friday and my daughter took this keychain from the shop without paying. I didn’t discover it until we got home, and we want to return it. Kelsey, will you say you’re sorry?”

Kelsey, meek voice, but without hesitation: “I’m sorry.”

Clerk: “Thank you for returning it.” We step out of the gift shop and I hold her by her tiny shoulders and look her in the eye.

Me: “You were very brave, and I’m proud of you for returning the keychain.”

Kelsey, with urgency and desperation: “Don’t tell Aunt Cori, Uncle Gary, Kelley or Connor (cousins we were visiting on the way home).”

Me: “I promise I won’t. 

We won’t talk about this again.”

In the middle of the crowded tram loading area next to the gift shop, oblivious to the people around us, we sit down on a bench and I hold her close and tell her how much I love her.  She chokes back a sob or two, but she doesn’t see me shed some tears along with hers, as I note the loss of a small amount of childhood innocence as she learned one of life’s many lessons. 

And don’t worry, if you invite my daughter over to play, you won’t need to check her pockets on the way out.  She learned her lesson, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to be her teacher.