The Best Ways to Convince Your Stepkids Shoplifting is Wrong

Last Updated on September 17, 2025 by Michael

Your stepkid got caught shoving $47 worth of Pokemon cards down their cargo shorts.

At Target.

Again.

The security guard brought you coffee. In his personal mug. The one with his granddaughter’s kindergarten photo on it. You know her favorite color is purple and she wants to be a dinosaur when she grows up. Paul (yeah, you’re on a first-name basis now) is considering early retirement. Because of your kid.

You’re the reason Paul drinks.

Prison Food: A Journey Through Gastrointestinal Hell

Want to scare your kid straight? Let’s discuss what “beef stew” means in the correctional system.

Spoiler: There’s no beef. Questionable on the stew part too.

There’s this guy Derek. Derek stole exactly one (1) fun-size Snickers. Derek did 72 hours in county. Derek now gets full-body tremors when he walks past the candy aisle. Can’t even look at chocolate without having flashbacks to something called “nutrient loaf” that may or may not have been legally classified as food.

Derek’s therapist just bought a boat. Named it “Thanks, Derek.”

Your kid needs to hear about Derek. In detail. With sound effects.

Let’s Talk Numbers (The Expensive Kind)

That $12 mascara your stepdaughter absolutely could not live without but somehow couldn’t pay for?

Buckle up, buttercup.

• The mascara: $12
• Court appearance: $500 minimum
• Lawyer (the one with the commercial jingle): $3,000
• Your wine budget (let’s be honest): $400/month → $1,200/month
• Therapy for everyone involved: Just sell a kidney

$3,500. For mascara. That she’s gonna lose in her backpack within 48 hours anyway.

She could’ve bought 291 tubes. Could’ve started a mascara empire. Could’ve been the Mascara Goddess of the whole damn school district. Instead? She’s banned from every Sephora in the tri-state area and Paul the security guard has her photo on his dashboard.

Way to dream big, Madison.

Emotional Warfare (Geneva Convention Doesn’t Apply to Stepparents)

Time to weaponize guilt like you’re getting paid for it.

“Mrs. Chen at the corner store? She’s 73. Arthritis in both hands. Still counts every penny because she sends money to her sick grandson in Ohio.”

Pause. Maintain eye contact.

“But hey, enjoy that stolen Reese’s. Hope it tastes like old lady tears and broken dreams.”

Still not working? Time for the nuclear option:

“Also her cat Mr. Whiskers just died. He was 19. She found him behind the dumpster as a kitten. He was her only friend.”

(Mrs. Chen doesn’t have a cat. She’s allergic. She does have a goldfish named Steve, but Steve’s fine. Your kid doesn’t need these details.)

Your Kid’s Social Life: Dead on Arrival

Oh, your precious stepchild thinks they’re gonna be the cool rebel?

Adorable.

Here’s how it actually goes down: By first period Monday, everyone knows. But not the sexy “bad boy/girl with a mysterious past” version they’re imagining. Nope. They’re gonna be “that weird kid who ugly-cried when mall security caught them trying to stuff a 48-pack of toilet paper down their pants.”

Why toilet paper? Nobody knows. That’s what makes it worse.

Jessica won’t text back. Brad’s pool party? Uninvited. Even the kid who voluntarily eats lunch in the bathroom thinks they’re too much drama.

Their crush is already telling everyone they “always knew something was off.”

Social murder. Complete and total.

Playing 4D Chess with a Teenage Criminal

Your kid thinks they’re tough? Time to out-crazy the crazy.

“Shoplifting? Oh honey, that’s adorable. Real criminals are into NFT fraud. Here, let’s mint some monkey pictures and scam some venture capitalists.”

Pull out your laptop. Start making spreadsheets. Use terms like “blockchain” and “liquidity pool.” Mutter about the Cayman Islands. Google “how to fake your own death” while they’re watching.

“What? This is what you wanted, right? Crime? Let’s do CRIME crime. Or are you just a baby who steals lip gloss like some kind of amateur?”

Keep those browser tabs open. For months. Occasionally shout “BITCOIN!” during dinner for no reason.

Watch them realize you’ve completely snapped.

Consequences That Violate the Geneva Convention

Grounding is for basic parents. You’re a stepparent. You’re playing by prison rules now.

Introducing the Punishment Menu (today’s special: suffering with a side of humiliation):

The Grocery Store Opera: Every shopping trip, they sing the price of each item. “♪ This yogurt is THREE NINETY-NINE and was PURCHASED LEGALLY ♪” Opera voice mandatory. Vibrato encouraged.

Bedtime Criminal Code: Their new bedtime story is the entire state penal code. You do voices. Make the misdemeanors sound disappointed in them.

The Ringtone of Shame: CVS theft alarm. Maximum volume. Password protected. It goes off during their presentation on The Great Gatsby? That’s literature, baby.

Fashion Statement: Custom t-shirt reading “I Stole From Target And All I Got Was This Stupid Probation Officer.” Bedazzled. With sequins. Their school photo in the middle.

Movie Night Is Now Evidence Night: Six hours of gas station security footage. You provide director’s commentary. “Notice how the thief approaches the Slim Jims with criminal intent…”

The secret is commitment. You can’t just threaten the opera. You have to conduct it. In the cereal aisle. While other shoppers judge you.

Every Retail Worker Has a Devastating Backstory Now

Time to humanize everyone with increasingly ridiculous tales of woe.

“That GameStop employee? That’s Tyler. Pre-med student. Works 47 jobs. His whole family has lupus. Yes, even the dog. The goldfish? Lupus. The houseplants? Somehow, also lupus.”

Keep escalating.

“The Sephora lady? She collects porcelain clowns. Has 1,247 of them. They all have names. Mr. Chuckles is clinically depressed. How do you think Mr. Chuckles feels about your life choices, Jennifer? HOW DO YOU THINK HE FEELS?”

Will this create empathy? No. Will it make them question your sanity? Absolutely. Sometimes fear works better than empathy.

Welcome to Surveillance State Paradise

Time to install some healthy paranoia.

“Those cameras? They’re not just recording. They’re using facial recognition linked to a database that’s shared with every store, the DMV, your school, and for some reason, all the Dairy Queens in Nebraska.”

This is completely false. Continue anyway.

“The door sensors? They can smell fear. And teen spirit. And whatever that Axe body spray is you’re bathing in. That’s why they keep going off – it’s not theft detection, it’s cringe detection.”

“Target already has a TikTok about you. 6 million views. Someone made you into a meme. You’re the new ‘Hide the Pain Harold’ but for shoplifting.”

Watch them develop a permanent fear of automatic doors.

The Nuclear Option: Full Scorched Earth

Still not working? Time to embrace your villain era.

Operation: WiFi Hostage

• Monday: IStoleAndNowImSad2024
• Tuesday: TheftMadeMeUglyInside
• Wednesday: PaulTheSecurityGuardDeservedBetter
• Thursday: EvenMyGoldfishIsDisappointed
• Friday: CriminalRecordsArentCute2024

But wait. There’s more.

Hire Randy. Who’s Randy? Nobody knows. Randy just… appears. At every store your kid visits. Randy doesn’t speak. Randy just eats saltines. Constantly. Where does Randy get all these saltines? Why is Randy always there? These are questions without answers.

Replace every family photo with security footage. Their first birthday? That’s parking lot surveillance now. Prom photos? Nope, that’s aisle 7 at Walgreens. Make it weird. Make it memorable.

Start a podcast: “My Stepkid Stole Stuff And Now We’re All In Therapy.” Make them edit it. The reviews will be educational.

Let’s Have a Come-to-Jesus Moment for 83 Seconds

Real talk.

Shoplifting isn’t rebellion. It’s not sticking it to the man. It’s not cool.

It’s sobbing in a Spencer’s Gifts while a mall cop named Keith waits for your parents and everyone in the food court watches.

Want to rebel? Start a terrible band called “Parental Disappointment.” Get a face tattoo of Danny DeVito. Date someone inappropriate. Take up extreme ironing. Literally anything else.

But shoplifting? That’s just Kyle from the suburbs trying to be hard and ending up banned from every store within a 20-mile radius. That’s not street cred. That’s a logistical nightmare.

The Grand Finale Where Everything Falls Apart

Look, stepparenting is like trying to defuse a bomb while riding a unicycle through a tornado. In the dark. While someone plays the accordion badly.

Will any of this work? Who knows. Maybe your kid stops stealing. Maybe they end up on Dateline. Maybe they become a security guard who finally understands why Paul drank so much.

But hey, at least you tried. And when they’re 37 and telling their therapist about Randy and his mysterious saltines, you’ll know you gave it your absolute chaotic best.

That therapist is gonna buy such a nice boat.

They’ll probably name it after you. Or Paul. Probably Paul.