The Case of The Stolen Shoes

We’ve been having some troubles over here at the LeMasters. What is wrong, you ask? I will tell you. It’s called Robyn LeMasters stealing Dayna LeMasters’ things. That’s right. The number of times I’ve walked in on her wearing a shirt of mine or ugh a pair of shoes (disgusting). Yes. As of recent I’ve been missing shoes…only to find them on my mom’s feet…while she works in the yard.

2 Weeks Ago:

Me: What’s happening on your feet?
Mom: What do you mean?
Me: I mean those shoes.
Mom: I know aren’t they cute?
Me: Yeah. I should know! They’re mine!
Mom: I don’t think so. No. These are mine.
Me: My checkbook would beg to differ.
Mom: Wow. Selfish.

Saturday:
Me: I like that owl shirt.
Mom: Isn’t it cute? I forgot I had it. It was in the ironing closet.
Me: You didn’t forget you had it. It’s not yours! It’s mine.
Mom: No. You gave it to me. You said the neck was funky.
Me: You made that up. That never happened!
Mom: Well, I’m wearing it.

Monday:

Me: Those shoes are cute.
Mom: Stop right there. These are not yours!
Me: YES THEY ARE! STOP TAKING MY SHOES AND PUTTING YOUR SWEATY LITTLE FEET IN THEM.
Mom: THESE ARE MINE!
Me: Lies!

Dad: Let’s just calm it down. I mean the number of times I’ve heard about you taking mom’s stuff and stretching it…
Me/Mom: What are you talking about?
Dad: I recall a boot-stretching incident.
Me: ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THAT WAS 2 YEARS AGO!
Mom: Oh. Yeah. I still haven’t really gotten over that. Those were my favorite.
Me: Wow. I think you got over it. You’ve bought at least 20 more pairs of boots since then…
Mom: Yeah. See, Nick, this is why you shouldn’t talk. You don’t really know what you’re talking about.
Dad: How did I become the bad guy?

Tuesday:

Me: Are you kidding me?
Mom: What?
Me: Those are mine.
Mom: No they’re not. They barely fit me. There is no way they are yours! You would never wear these.
Me: FALSE! I do wear those. Wow. Look at the dirt stains. They are ruined.
Mom: Put them on right now. They won’t fit you.
Me: That is so gross. Your foot has been in them for at least an hour.
Mom: PUT IT ON!
Me: Fine. See? Perfect fit.
Mom: Well. You never wear them, so they’re mine.
Me: You now owe me like three pairs of shoes. What are you going to do when I leave? I feel like an epic throw down is going to happen.
Mom: No it won’t. I’ll just say take the craphole things…SELFISH!