How I Handled (or Not) My Son Getting Caught Stealing One Saturday night a few weeks before Christmas, I poured a glass of Cabernet, preparing to binge watch Schitt’s Creek; one of my favorite tv shows. My husband was upstairs watching a game, my youngest son was in the basement playing Xbox and my 16-year-old son Dylan was hanging out with his friend Matt.
Five minutes into my show, my phone rang. It was Dylan.
“Are you alone?” He asked.
“Yeah,” I said a little puzzled.
“Where’s dad?”
“He’s in bed. Dude, what’s wrong?” I asked. It was clear something was wrong.
He proceeded to tell me that they were at Macy’s. They had participated in a TikTok challenge where you walk around a store with multiple layers of clothing until someone stops you. They were stopped and “accused” of stealing.
I wanted to ask him if he thought I was stupid. After all, even if this was a TikTok challenge, I have yet to see something good come from one. My blood boiled. Regardless, I knew I needed to keep a cool head. He wasn’t allowed to leave until I came to retrieve him. Fortunately, he wasn’t at the Macy’s twenty minutes away. No, he decided to shoplift at the Macy’s 45 minutes from our home.
While on my way to pick him up, I proceeded to invent new curse words and called my closest friends to rant. It was almost surreal this was happening. After the long drive to the other side of the city, I pulled into the almost empty parking lot. Despite the holiday season, the mall would be closing in twenty minutes. I went inside, inquired on the location of the loss prevention office and headed that way.
The security office was small, housing just a desk, a chair and about 20 small monitors on the wall. Each monitor focused on various parts of the store. Matt’s parents had already arrived and had him in a corridor, quietly yelling at him. When I locked eyes with Matt, I glared at him.
The security officer brought my son out of a holding room. I couldn’t make out the expression on Dylan’s face. Was it fear? Frustration? I couldn’t tell.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I barked. “This was the dumbest thing you’ve ever done!” “I know,” he acquiesced, staring at the ground.
I turned my focus to the officers. “He’s fifth in his class yet has zero common sense sometimes. What did he steal?”
One of the officers took me out to the hallway and began pulling garments out of a plastic crate.
“A North Face shirt, a pair of sweats, and,” he chuckled as he pulled out the last garment. “You know, 15 years of doing this, I’ve never had someone steal a PGA golf tour shirt.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked Dylan. “Are you freaking kidding me? A PGA golf tour shirt?” I think the shock was a combination of the situation and out of everything he could have stolen, chose a PGA golf shirt.
The officer explained that because he was respectful through the process, they weren’t going to press charges. He would have to pay just a civil fine that equated to three times the cost of the goods he had attempted to steal. That meant $388.
I turned to Dylan. “You got your wallet on you?”
Dylan nodded.
“Good, cause you’re gonna pay them tonight.”
He bristled at this but didn’t dare protest.
He paid the fine at a nearby register and fifteen minutes later, we were on our way home. Five minutes into our drive, the flood gates opened.
“That was half my savings!” He wailed.
“Dylan, what did you think was going to happen? You have no one to blame but yourself. We’ve told you over and over again, everything you do has consequences. You could have been arrested tonight! Not only did you let yourself down but you violated the trust we had in you.”
“I know,” he whimpered. “Dad is going to be so mad at me!”
“He’d be crazy not to be angry with you,” I responded. And that was true, my husband was irate. I left him home purposely so he had time to collect himself for what I anticipated to be a very difficult discussion.
To my relief, my husband was pretty calm when we walked through the door. We kept the conversation with Dylan brief, explaining we would be discussing the evening and his punishment tomorrow. It was very late and we had all been on an emotional roller coaster for two hours. Like the 24-hour rule in youth sports, we would have a more positive and productive conversation after a little time.
The next day, we handed down his punishment. Two months of no social events. He could see his girlfriend (because she’s a good influence on him) once a week, for one hour, at our house. The only place he was allowed to go was school, his part time job and the gym for 45-minutes. We installed Life360 on his phone and dished out additional expectations that stand to this very day.
Some may think we didn’t punish enough; others may think it was too harsh. Again, there aren’t manuals for this stuff and every situation is different. My end goal was to teach him what he did was morally wrong and to hold him accountable. I wanted him to know that there are consequences for our actions and to understand why he should never do it again.
This was uncharted territory for my husband and I. After all, it’s not like you research what to do when your kid steals. Just when you think you’re getting pretty good at some aspects of parenting, kids have a way of throwing curve balls. Sometimes those curve balls are big, gigantic cannonballs. All you can do is try your best and focus on your child learning from their mistakes so they aren’t repeated.
By Angela Miconi
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