My Mother, The Thief, Part II

Friday night I had some car trouble. It always sucks having car trouble, but my mom lived only 20 minutes away, so I called her to see if she could help me with her jumper cables.

We could not jump the battery successfully, so while waiting for a tow, we went inside to eat at a local restaurant that I often go to.

She got an individual pizza and I had a sandwich.

Soon thereafter, we got the call the tow truck was 30 minutes out, so we got "To Go" boxes.

"What a shame. You don't have any dipping sauces, so you can't steal the dishes." This is just a couple weeks after the night at the Okolona restaurant when I learned she has a history of taking these particular dishes home.

"I don't know," she says as she picks up the empty plate and puts it on the to go pizza box. "I think this one will fit perfectly in my 'To Go' box."

"That's not funny. Don't you dare!"

Thankfully, she was joking. Her sense of humor is funny.

I wonder if stealing the little dipping dishes is a gateway crime. In a year, will the police will be tasering a 66 year old woman with $100,000 of stolen weapons in the trunk of her Honda Civic?