Shame on you.

I don’t know who you are or what you look like, but I know you’ve tried making four calls to Romania since you pilfered my phone yesterday.

But you do know who I am, and you know what I looked like when you stole my phone. You know I was bending over my little boy, trying to comfort him. You know I was a worried mother, caring for her son, and that I put my phone down to give him my full attention. You know I wasn’t thinking about you or about my phone but only about my child for that one moment. You know I was vulnerable and you took advantage.

Shame on you.

I don’t expect you to care about me, really, but I do wonder how you will brag to your friends about your Big Score. Will you tell them you took it from a mother who used that phone to communicate with her husband, with her family and with her friends? Will you tell them you stole a little boy’s favorite toy, and all the photos and videos captured by our family life? Will you tell them that you took it out of a mother’s diaper bag when she was distracted by her child?

Seriously? How low can you possibly be to steal from a mother’s diaper bag?

I don’t know you, but I bet your mother knows what you look like. And I bet she would be ashamed if she knew who you really are.

Trust me, I’m a mother. And this I know.