Karma

My family spent the better part of the afternoon today at a local park. My kids played tag on and around the jungle gym while my sister and I talked about important things like the Sweet Valley High book series and the Bring It On trilogy.

There were several other people at the park at the same time as us, including a lone teenage boy who was talking on his cell phone. I didn't pay much attention to the guy until he picked up Camber's scooter and started walking--and then running--away with it.

"I think he's stealing it!" my sister said in disbelief.

At that exact moment, I caught a glimpse of my husband, who had left work a little early and had just arrived in the parking lot. "That guy is stealing Camber's scooter!" I yelled and pointed in the direction of where the boy was running. When the boy heard me, he dropped the object and started sprinting like an Olympian down the street.

"You'd better run," my husband yelled as he charged after him. "Because I'm coming to get you."

The thief, who was roughly the size of a hobbit, didn't make it a block before he stopped and threw up his hands in defeat.

Talk about karma: the thief turned out to be the sixteen year-old son of my husband's work colleague.

"Guess what? I'm having lunch with your dad tomorrow," my husband told him. The boy gulped.

As you can imagine, over the past few hours, the episode has been relived and rehashed a countless number of times. Central to my husband's retelling of the story is the fortuitous timing of his arrival at the park. If he hadn't arrived on the scene at exactly that moment, the scooter would be gone forever.

Also relevant, he claims, is his wardrobe.

"If I had been wearing tighter work pants," he pointed out with a smirk, "I wouldn't have been able to run as fast."

Karma indeed.

He still has two months.