Nothing to See Here…

Baby Raena. Little Rae-Rae. Our Rae of Sunshine. How sweet and innocent she is, right?

Yeah, if you believe that, you’d be wrong. She’s up to no good, I tell ya. She’s headed for the Big House. But, oh, is she sneaky. We still haven’t figured out where she stashed the goods, how she pulls off the heists.

See, we were at Walgreen’s refilling so many prescriptions, you might have thought we ran our own nursing home or something. But when you have a diabetic married to an asthmatic with PCOS, well, you just hope for good insurance and willingly accept the concoctions they give you to swallow, inject, or inhale.

As we were departing the store, all five of us trying to crowd through the door together like the Three Stooges or something, the security buzzer shrieks. Ack, contraband! Someone has contraband!

So we back up and go through individually. Sarah, she’s clean – no alarm. Jadyn, against all odds (because you have NO CLUE how desperately she yearned for the little pretty little pony they had in the toy aisle!) made it through without incident. Daddy with babe in arms goes next. They are the culprits! We assume it must be Bill with his gadgets and boy scout knives and he checks his pockets to see if he’s been made an unwitting mule of the stash. Nope, he’s clean. So he goes through on his own. No buzzer.

It’s RAE-RAE!

She walks through again and sets it off. We take of her coat to check pockets; nothing. The coat makes it through security without a hitch. It’s now just a slobbery, boogery baby in overalls who can’t seem to make it through clean.

We make her spread ‘em and put her little chubby hands on the Wrigley’s gum rack and we pat her down. She SEEMS clean but no one is willing to go THERE and check the dipe. The Walgreen’s cashier by this time is waaaay past ready to get rid of us. “Go, go.” he says. “Here, take all the Sudafed I have hidden behind my counter – the Meth dealers will pay buckets for it. I don’t have the combination to the safe, but, here, take all the cash in my drawer. Just go. Don’t worry about the alarm. I’ll count to a hundred before I call the manager.”

We left having no idea what Rae might be hiding away or in what cavity it may be hidden. You might think us cynical and untrusting of her little baby innocence, but there is precedent here.

Just before Christmas, we were at the mall in that horrendously long line awaiting our turn to force our crying kids to sit on a strange man’s lap. While trying to pass the time, my husband took the little baby for a stroll through the mall. Rae-Rae rode up high on his shoulders so she could see. Upon returning from their stroll, she was clutching a cute little stuffed butterfly toy. “Oh, that’s adorable.” I said. “Where did you buy that?” My husband knew nothing of what I spoke. “What butterfly?” he said as he tried to twist his head up and around to glimpse the little girl on his shoulders. “Oh my god, she STOLE a toy!”

I’m not sure how she does it. All I know is next time I go to New York, I’m taking the girl into Tiffany & Co with me.