This was our last day in Parma. We had planned to do a bit of touring since we'd been so busy visiting family that we hadn't really seen the city. I was also looking forward to a little shopping.
But with children, things often do not go according to plan. And this day was such a frustrating one that I actually didn't want to write about it until now, nearly two weeks later.
It all began the night before when Derek was putting the kids to bed; he found three little bunny figurines under Solanne's pillow. Solanne vehemently denied knowing where they came from, and so did Maia. It was late, so we let it be after asking a few times. That night, Derek and I devised a strategy: we knew this was going to be a big moment in our parenting career. Someone had stolen these toys from somewhere, and someone was lying about it. We could let it pass, we could punish the one we believed to be the guilty party without proof or a confession, or we could work it out in such a way that whoever had done it would feel comfortable being honest with us. Of course, we wanted the latter to happen, but we weren't quite sure how... Except that we had to promise not to punish her for telling the truth all the while ensuring that some sort of consequence for the original deed would occur. Sure. No problem.
We had breakfast that next morning, and after we had brushed our teeth we got down to the business at hand. We asked the girls again who took the toys and let them know that we were more upset about the lying than the stealing. After over half an hour of talking with them and of them denying any knowledge, I had to leave the room. I was so upset that one of my kids would tell such a baldface lie that I couldn't promise that I wasn't going to lose my temper.
I came back after I had cooled my heels, and after Derek had given them a chance to talk to each other - at this point, we weren't sure if they both knew or if the little thief had also kept the secret from her sister.
The details at this point are sketchy, but I do remember bringing
Solanne up to our room and telling her I knew it was her. And finally she confessed: she had found them somewhere in the apartment. I was so ready for her confession that I let out a sigh of relief and cried. I told her how proud I was of her for telling the truth, and that we could make it right by putting them back.
I should have known it wasn't the whole truth, but it only took a moment of Solanne putting them "back" in their place for me to know she didn't find them on the floor by the bed.
I called her out on it, and she began to cry. After a long bout of it, I finally managed to talk her into telling me the truth. And she confessed again. And again I was relieved, and again I quickly realized that her story didn't hold up. Now I was getting angry that she was adding new lies to her first one.
I called her out on it again, and this time she cried and sobbed and screamed (there may have been some writhing) for at least thirty or forty minutes. Her inner struggle with what she had done was being lived out loud, for all three of us to witness. And it was painful for all of us. It was nearly noon when Solanne finally confessed that she had taken the toys from Mario and Nicetta's house, and she had hidden
them in her underwear so they wouldn't be discovered (dresses don't have pockets after all). She had been embarassed by what she did, but she had found the bunnies so cute that she hadn't been able to resist.
And I was embarassed too. The only thing we could do is send them back to my cousins with a letter of apology. And the thought of havig to admit to having a little thief as a daughter to these relatives I barely knew (and who know Solanne not at all) was mortifying. It was my turn, though I did my bit of self flagilation alone and in silence.
I know now that they will likely understand, and if we could have returned the figurines in person they would have told us it wasn't a problem, but I guess the stress of having to put on a good face, to do my dad and myself proud in front of his family, coloured my reaction.
The good news is that we ultimately taught Solanne that it's better to get the truth out sooner and that she can in fact trust us to keep our word: we ensured to make restitution for the stolen objects, but we were sure to tell her that we were happy that she told the truth in the end, and that she should be proud of herself.
We still have the figurines; we'll send them from home with a letter from me and an apology note from Solanne. And if they can forgive us, all the better. But if they can't, I'm not too worried: I know that in the end, Solanne and both her parents did the right thing.
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