I don’t know who you are, but I do know where you live. I would appreciate it greatly if you would return the spoons. I am uncertain as to the purpose behind your little hoard, and I know it exists somewhere. I just haven’t found your hiding place yet.
I suspect that digging to China may have been involved in the acquisition of the aforementioned spoons. But you see, dear thief, we have shovels in the garage that promises to provide a much more efficient way of digging to China.
You have reduced us, yet again, to eating the majority of our cereal with plastic spoons. And while they are sufficient for the task at hand, they perform poorly in the dishwasher. I would much prefer to use a metal spoon that has the potential of a nice long life.
That is, until stolen away for some unknown purpose.
Thief, dear, I also suspect that you or one of your tiny cohorts may also be to blame for the thing I just cleaned out of the lazy susan. By the time I found your lovely gift, it had deteriorated into a massive puddle of mold encompassing the entire top tier of the lazy susan. The bottoms of dishes had to be sterilized. Thankfully, I was spared that portion of the mess by your dear father.
But he couldn’t, or perhaps wouldn’t, tackle the lake of mold. Oh no. That was left for me.
My hands now smell like a strange mixture of cleaning supplies, soap and whatever that was.
It is a problem, dear Spoon Thief, and one I hope to rectify the moment I discover your identity.
I am also highly suspicious of your involvement in the Great Microwave Splatter of 2013. It was a thing of beauty. Pristine. White. Not a particle of crud existed on that microwave.
Until you came along. Now I cringe each and every time I go to microwave food, fearing that some particle of fried food may drop onto the plate. Just the thought makes me shudder. But I am paralyzed by my stubborn nature. I JUST cleaned it.
It is your turn, dear thief. It. Is. Your. Turn.
I fear we have come to an impasse. You refuse to allow your identity to be known and I am flushing all the toilets. Oh yes, Spoon Thief, I fear you are the culprit in All The Unflushed Toilets.
Your identity is safe for now, but I will catch you. Oh yes. I will hunt you down.
What is the grossest thing you’ve had to clean up in your career as a Mom?