More Dumb Criminals

Today when I was grabbing a load of laundry from the hamper I heard some change jingling. A little annoyed that my husband didn't empty his pockets, I began searching through the clothes. It took me about 2 seconds to discover the broken piggy bank and 9 quarters buried beneath a couple of my husband's shirts. What in the world?

"Bradley?"

"Coming, Mommy!"

As I held the broken piggy bank, he walked in and tears welled up in his eyes. I didn't give him too much of a hard time. I asked him what happened and he explained that he jumped off the bed and it broke.

"Ok. So you put it in my hamper?"

Nod.

(Seriously? The hamper? Why not put it somewhere like behind the washing machine, or under the duvet in the linen closet, or in my bottom dresser drawer, or in the bread machine? At least put it somewhere that I won't find it for another 2-6 months. I am comforted in knowing that my son will never lead a successful life in crime.)

I guess I will have to take another trip to Arizona.