Hey, Anna-Liza here. I know it’s late, but I can’t sleep. I’m really upset. Some … person … stole my five year old’s tricycle. We don’t know for sure when, but when he wanted to ride it to the doughnut store this morning, it was just gone.
Think about this. What kind of … person … would steal a tricycle? Granted, it was a really nice one. Five years ago or so, when we actually had a little discretionary income, I spent a little more than we could really afford on a really good Kettler trike, one that would last through two boys and come out still working on the other side. It was doing an admirable job, too.
Poor Mr. B. He loved that trike. He rode it all over the neighborhood. If we went to the park, to the library, to the aforementioned doughnut store, he wanted to ride his trike. And now someone just walked off with it. You know what? Having something like that happen sucks at any time, but having it happen at age five is a lot worse than that. The poor kid just doesn’t know what to think.
What sucks for me is that, not only did someone steal something he really loved and used all the time, but now, with our finances as dire as they are, I can’t even get him another one. Not even a used one. And that’s the thing that’s upsetting me even more than the idea that some … person … out there apparently sees nothing wrong in stealing a little kid’s trike. Any mom out there will know exactly how much it hurts not to be able to do anything to make it all better.