Infiltrated

My house is under attack by robbers and vandals. Well, not the whole thing, not all at once. I find little clues to let me know they're here . . . and they walk among us.

For example, I went to put in my favorite lipstick. Gone. I went to clean the kids' bathroom. There's the lipstick, stuffed inside an empty tissue box.

I found my hairbrush in the undrained bathtub, full of conditioner.

My tin of Altoids is empty . . . again.

I discovered he hose nozzle, broken, by the trampoline. No one knows what happened.

My spoons keep disappearing. I started with 24. I now have 10.

Full, entire bottles of shampoo get poured into the bathtub.

Someone has written on the walls. I'm pretty sure it's gang related.

I can never find my scissors.

Clean, folded laundry has been thrown and scattered, only to be stuffed back into a laundry basket for next week's washing.

A list of foods we can't keep around or they will be stolen:

Crystal light mix
Lemonade concentrate
Candy
Paremesan cheese
Ramen

How to get through to a criminal? I try to use "love and logic" which is harder than it sounds, being that I feel neither love nor logic when I discover such matters.

Maybe someone could recommend a good military school or boot camp or something. Or invent a way for me to be four places at once. Nahhhh . . . just send me a magic wand . . . and a tin of Altoids.