Late Thursday morning I brought my workout bag and the diaper bag out to the car, which is what I try to do before packing both kids in their seats. Instead I just stared dumbly at the dashboard, part of which was dangling pitifully from its wires, a gaping hole where my stereo had been. My stereo, which had to be replaced after Violet jammed three CDs in it when she was two. And then repaired after Violet put $1.50 worth of change in it.
I reported the incident and spent the better part of the day waiting for the detective to get in touch. A few years ago someone stole power tools from our garage. The detective found them in the pawn shop down the street. I guess I was hoping. I don’t know. When I finally heard from the police, the Sargent basically told me that this particular crime is very low on the priority list. I could call for someone to dust for prints, but we’d be using valuable resources that could be spent on more serious incidents. Also, stereos are usually sold in bulk from the back of someone’s car, so there is not much chance that we’d get it back. So. Forget it.
Violet wanted to know why someone stole our stereo. Good question. It was the cheapest one we could find. The truth is, I never thought anyone would bother ripping it off. I mean, who wouldn’t run screaming when they see the cracker-crumb covered, stinking sippy cup strewn car. And I never locked my doors. I know I know. Stupid. But keep in mind I don’t have power locks. So individually locking all four doors while holding a baby, two bags and gripping a 3 year old to keep her from stepping into traffic is a feat I’m usually unable to accomplish. Plus it’s hard to imagine someone creeping around our driveway, mere feet from where we’re sleeping.
I spent most of Thursday and Friday in a serious funk, generally creeped out and mad at myself. Rob traded cars with me so I could have some music instead of only kid screeching. Plus he figured it’s easier to lock power doors. (It’s just a matter of time before Violet accidentally locks herself in.) But now he has to deal with Austin traffic in silence. Who knows when we’ll be able to wrangle kids and cars and naps and installers long enough to get a new stereo.
Grrr… petty criminals suck.