Monday, December 31, 2007

It runs in the family...

We had an interesting day at Chickadee Lane Lodge today.

At the time, I was happily running errands in town. Leisurely browsing through the aisles of discounted Christmas merchandise and decorations on this, the last day of 2007. Humming under my breath I was carefully evaluating items that could potentially find a new home at Chickadee Lane Lodge next holiday season. I was broken out of my reverie when my phone rang with a call from my 16 year old son who was at home with the rest of the kiddos.

"Hello!" I chirped out merrily. (Seventy-five percent off always makes me happy).

"Guess what just happened?" he asked, stress evident in his voice.

My merry mood instantly disappeared. I don't know about you, but this mother's brain goes into instant overdrive when a conversation begins on this promising note. All manner of possibilities flash through my head, none of them good.

"What?!" I replied with concern.

"The police were just here."


"Yes. Apparently your daughter decided to call 911."

(I have noticed they instantly become MY children when they are naughty as opposed to his sisters or brother).

"No!" I replied in horror, oblivious to the shoppers around me who were listening with fascination.




"Son, are you making this up?"

"No, Mom, I can assure you I am quite serious."

(This was said with great dignity.)

"Well, WHAT HAPPENED??" I asked calmly at double volume.

"I'm not exactly sure," he replied. "All I know is that the dogs were barking like crazy and there was someone banging on the door and I looked out and there were two squad cars in the yard and three deputies walking around. They said that someone had called 911 and wanted to know if we were all okay."

"Good grief!" I replied. "What did you tell them?"

"I said of course we were fine, but they didn't believe me."

"Oh my goodness," I said, looking wildly around for a place to sit down before my knees gave out on me. "What did you do?"

"I invited them in and told them they could look around. They assured themselves that everything was okay, walked around the yard a little bit and left. Then I started questioning kids. Your seven year old daughter 'fessed up. She said she was bored and wanted to 'see what would happen'. Well, she found out! She scared me half to death! She is in her room crying her head off and she can just stay in there for all I care! I felt like some child abuser for crying out loud!"

Obviously the finer points of our wonderful law enforcement response to a 911 call were lost on him at this particular moment.

"I'm coming right home. Don't kill your sister until I get there."

I shall draw a veil over the ensuing interview with my daughter. Suffice it to say that I am pretty sure that she will never call 911 again unless it really is a major emergency. She also got to know some of the local police at the Police Station when we hand-delivered an apology note later that day. I also personally had a very embarassing conversation with the local 911 switchboard operator explaining the situation and thanking them for their swift response.

All's well that ends well.

And her brother really can't say too much about it.

He did exactly the same thing to us when he was her age!


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