On the slippery slope

Theoretically, as a mother you expect such an experience. But you're never really prepared for it. And so I was blindsided when my phone rang that afternoon. It was the father of my children on the line.
He said: Guess what?
I said: What is it?
He said: I had to go to the police station. To go and pick up our son. He's been caught stealing.

I'm a blessed mum with two great kids, they've never really caused any problems. That's why this situation was new and panicked thoughts immediately started boiling up in my motherly brain: My son, on the wrong track! I always knew he was a filou. Where will this end? Will I have to visit him in prison one day? Have we failed as parents?

Will I have to visit him in prison one day? Have we failed as parents?

There was also a less panicky thought: Hooray, now I have a reason to let him empty the compost for a few months! But the father assured me in a second phone call that the little one was very contrite and that he had already decided on a punishment with him: a few hours cleaning his bike. Too bad about the compost help.
Nevertheless, I now needed psychological support. I told my sisters, friends and colleagues. They all seemed to take it pretty lightly. The sister said: «What did he steal?» I didn't know. In my panic, I had forgotten to ask. The sister continued: «Do you remember when we were preschoolers and we left some glitter necklaces in a shop and mum found them in the drawer at home?» I remembered. We had to bring everything back and then stood crying and shaking in front of the store manager, who was obviously very uncomfortable with the scene. We never stole again.

We had to bring everything back and then stood crying in front of the store manager. We never stole again.

A friend, herself a mother of adult sons, told me about her experience. Her then 13-year-old son had once spent the night with a colleague when she received a call from the police. She was told to pick up her son. He had gone spraying on a building site with his colleague at night until a van with six police officers in riot gear turned up and took them away. «It was the shock of his life,» laughed his girlfriend, «now he's a lawyer. By the way, what did your son steal?» I had to pass. Finally, a friend said: «My goodness, isn't that a bit crass, going straight to the police? What did he steal?» I still didn't know, but thought the experience at the police station might have been beneficial.
In the evening, I finally asked my son what he had wanted to steal. Ashamed, he told me that his colleague and he had tried to steal a joke item. A fart spray. To play a joke on the teacher. I had to laugh. Perhaps the police were actually exaggerating a bit, even if fart spray is seen as a kind of gateway drug to later spray-painting. I don't know whether I can now hope for a future career as a lawyer for the son. But he probably won't be stealing any time soon.

About the author
Michèle Binswanger is a philosopher, journalist and author. She writes on social issues, is the mother of two children and lives in Basel. She writes regularly for the Swiss parents' magazine Fritz+Fränzi.
Subscribe to our free newsletter now.