This is my Mom, and what I am calling, “The Loaf of Bread Saga.”

Saturday, 4/11: Goes grocery shopping. After checking out, the cashier missed putting two bags in her cart. As she’s loading her car, another employee chases her down, and gives her the two bags, with apologies.

Sunday, 4/12: Mom goes looking for the fancy bread she bought to make French toast for Easter brunch. An exhaustive search, including a bread-sniffing dog, yields no fancy bread. The assumption is that in the mix up with the bags, the bread was left behind, alone and sad.

Monday, 4/13: Yes, it’s just bread, but hey, there are principles involved. And like $4. So, off to the store she goes, with receipt in hand. She told them about the mix up with the bags, and they gladly refunded the money. They all lived happily ever after. Until...

Wednesday, 4/15: Our once again happy shopper goes to get something out of the freezer. Wait! What is this we behold? A loaf of fancy bread purchased on 4/11, and now basically stolen? Egads!

Thursday 4/16: A guilt-ridden Mom dons sackcloth and ashes, and drives back to the store, thinking this was a simple fix. After several minutes explaining the saga to an increasingly befuddled customer service kid, a manager gets involved.

Manager: “Just so I understand, you (points at Mom) want to give us (waves at the store) money?” Mom is like, “Yes! I basically stole the bread from you! Have you never seen Les Miserable?” (I may be fabricating quotes for dramatic effect. You know, like reporters sometimes do)

Finally, after getting over his shock, and with no small amount of good humor, the $4 and change is exchanged for the third time. Everyone is happy. The store’s bread inventory is now square, and Mom’s immortal soul is safe from the charge of theft.

I’m also happy. I now have a brilliant story to tell my son someday, about going out of your way to be honest, and what an awesomely amazing woman his grandmother is.

/fin