Sticky Fingers

This is a picture of the truck Duane claimed as his own in Peru. We were at the lumber yard while my mom asked for the wood to make the desks. The wood wasn't ready yet, but Duane did spot this little beauty. It belonged to the son of the guy who owned the lumber yard. When it was time to leave, Duane clutched the rough little toy to his chest and proclaimed it was his. We told him no and made him put it back on the table he'd taken it from, but the kind man said Duane could keep it. He mentioned that there were a few of the same kind of toy lingering around the shop and that he made them from scrap wood. I was grateful that he was so willing to be generous, but it didn't quite enforce the idea to Duane that he can't have whatever he wants when he wants it. I wanted to give them some of Duane's toys, but sadly, the opportunity never arose.

Another instance of Duane's sticky fingerness occurred when we were at the Iquitos zoo. It was hot and my mom had bought everyone popsicles. Duane ate his and we continued on down the path until we came to a beach by the lake. We were deliberating on whether we should have lunch at the zoo or go somewhere else when Duane ran up to a complete stranger and took his popsicle away. The guy, thankfully was nice about it even though a three year old had just jerked the treat away with warning or explanation.

This person was wearing a shirt the exact same colors Pastor was wearing that day and they were both wearing red hats. Duane had taken the popsicle thinking the man was Pastor and didn't stop long enough to notice it wasn't. We were a little horrified and apologized and my mom gave the guy a couple bucks. Hopefully he's all but forgotten the issue by now.