Your son has a toy truck. You want that toy truck. It’s not fair that he has it when you want it. Take that toy truck from your son and bring it into the office to play with.
Your son will visit you at work and ask if you’ve seen his toy truck. Lie to him. Say, “Psssh. That truck sucks. I didn’t take it.”
Your son will explain he has a play date and he needs his toy truck back if you have it. Stand your ground.
“I’m the president of a massive corporation. I don’t have your stupid fucking truck.”
Your eyes flash on the floor safe. Your son notices.
“It’s in the floor safe isn’t it?” he says.
“What floor safe,” you say, but he’s already out of his chair and spinning the combination dial.
“12. 16. 6,” he says as he spins, then pulls the door open to reveal his toy truck.
“Shouldn’t have used my birthday as the combo, dipshit,” he says, inspecting the toy truck for blemishes. “Have your secretary call me a car.”
You do as he says, happy that your son didn’t lift up the stacks of cash and bonds to find the Boba Fett action figure you stole from him.
Happy Steal From Your Kids Day!
