Oliver Twist

On Super Bowl Sunday, Lindsey and I went with a couple of friends over to the home of Stephen and Katie McBroom. (aka, the McBroomsters.) As my years on this earth have grown longer, I have found myself less and less inclined towards Big Party Groups during sporting events. This changes when one of my teams is playing and I can surround myself with like-minded fans but this was not the case for the Super Bowl. So a small group of friends was right up my alley on this evening.

Had I known what was in store for me, I would have made my way to The Vine gathering.

I am a creature of comfort and this fact is exemplified in my clothing, specially my pants or shorts. I will always choose jeans over slacks, cargo shorts over jeans, and athletic shorts over cargos. In addition, when I'm sitting for an extended period of time, I don't like to have stuff in my pockets. So when I walked into the McBroomsters house, the first thing I did was set my wallet, keys, and phone on the kitchen table so I could get all comfortable and whatnot.

Now, you should know that the McBrooms have an "infant." His name is Mitchell or Mitchy Mitcherson or the Dread Pirate Mitchell or whatever other devious name I might come up with between now and the end of this blog. Mitchell is a funny kid. He's like 15 months old or something like that so he's right at that age where he's not quite sure about other humans he doesn't see every day but at the same time he thinks he might possibly enjoy playing with said other humans. After Sunday I think this might all be an act he pulls to sucker unsuspecting guests into trusting his little baby face.

Sometime into the 3rd quarter, as I wondered if Larry Fitzgerald was ever going to get going (spolier: he did), Mitchell brought his mom a present: my wallet. Apparently having eyed my possessions the moment I walked in, Mitchell built a ladder out of dining room chairs (OK, maybe just one chair), scaled the table, and took hold of my wallet. This is no ordinary infant, dear readers.

As Katie handed my wallet back to me and we all had a good laugh, I realize that all of my cash was missing. Look I don't usually carry around a lot of bills but on this night I was. There was a good chunk of money in there. At first I thought surely it must have just fallen out as Mitchell played with the wallet. So I got up to look for my missing money but couldn't find it anywhere. Meanwhile the rest of the group thought I was joking (or perhaps they were all in on a plot to split my cash). I searched high and low, all the while Mitchell watched me with a look that was half "I'm a cute baby who doesn't know anything" and half "You better stop looking for your money, old man, that stuff is GONE."

Finally the others caught on to the fact that my money really was missing and, much to Mitchell's disappointment, Stephen joined me in the search. A few minutes later the truth was revealed: the money was found in Mitchell's crib. So this kid had scaled Mount Dining Room Table, snatched my wallet, stashed the cash away, possibly made some phone charges to my credit card (I haven't checked yet), and then slyly handed the empty wallet over and played dumb to its missing content.

I'm convinced he wasn't acting alone. Perhaps in the Weaver/McBroom family, children are taught the value of the quiet foot, a quick hand, and a big smile. Surely a 15 month old cannot learn how to lift a wallet all on his own. I'm inclined to dub Mitchell Oliver Twist because I'm certain the family is running some sort of children's con artist gang. I've got my eye on you Weavers/McBrooms. And next time I visit that house I'll be sure to take a page out of Derrick's book and leave my wallet in the back-dash of the car. Much safer.