Firecracker Frolic

One day, Robbie and I turned into a couple of scheming, little thieves.  We didn’t mean to be bad.  It wasn’t our intention to actually steal anything. 

We watched a re-run of “Treasure Island” and immediately engaged in play as evil swashbucklers on a white-sailed ship in the Caribbean Sea. 

With yellow bandanas tied to our heads, plastic swords in our hands, and a stuffed parrot scotch-taped and safety-pinned to Robbie’s left shoulder, we embarked on a mission to fill an empty shoebox with treasure.  Aye matey! 

Among the many items collected were two, twenty-dollar bills from mamma’s wallet, junk jewelry, and a handful of pennies from daddy’s collection of “wheaties.” 

We buried our treasure in the crawlspace under the house, drew a map to this secret location, and found another game to play. 

That night, after kisses and prayers, I snuggled under the covers to sleep.  It hit like a bolt of lightening.  Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!  I hadn’t put the money back!  Mamma was going to kill me! 

In a state of panic, I concocted a devious plan.  First thing in the morning, I would sneak out, retrieve the money, and replace it before mamma realized anything was wrong.  It was perfect!  It was glorious!  I would live to see another day.

My eyes flew open early the next morning.  I dressed in a frenzied blur, tiptoed past the kitchen, and headed out the back door.  Mamma said, “Whoa!  Where do you think you’re going?  Get back in here and eat your breakfast.”  Oh no! 

With escalating anxiety, I sat to scarf down my bacon and eggs.  While sitting there, I watched my plan disintegrate.

Mamma finished her grocery list and was preparing to leave.  Hurry!  I had to hurry!  What would happen to me if she went to the store and had no money to pay for the groceries?  I had to stop her!

While dreaming up a diversion, the words I dreaded floated to my ears.  Mamma said, “There’s forty dollars missing from my wallet.  I’m sure I had forty dollars in here yesterday.” 

Meekly, I lowered my head and continued to eat.  Silently, I listened as she systematically questioned each and every child.  Panic bubbled and churned.  Soon, I was the only remaining possibility.

I learned a valuable lesson that day.  Piracy is not a suitable profession for one prone to heebie-jeebies! 

Soon after that, Robbie blazed his way into my backyard with a shiny, silver cap gun and an attitude.  Cops and Robbers was the game du jour.  We began after I sneaked into the house and, uh, “borrowed” my brother’s toy rifle.