We were visited tonight by a police officer. Yikes!
What was the crime?
It started off so innocently. At day care pickup someone commented that Mo didn't know his phone number yet. So I started singing our phone number to him over dinner. For some reason, he didn't like that one bit. Didn't want to play along.
So then I told him, "There's another important number I want to teach you, too. It's 9-1-1."
"9-9-1," he says.
"9-9-1-1," he says.
"9-1-9-1," he nods.
I sighed and decided to work on that one another day, too.
So fast forward an hour. Daddy calls to say he's on his way home. Mo is saying goodbye to Daddy, when Curley grabs the phone and runs off with it, giggling the whole way. I click the phone to "off," but he howls as I attempt to pull it from his chubby little fingers. So I let him have it.
He toddles off to one of his favorite spots: behind the couch. I peek over. He's dialling 3-3-3-3-3-3.
OK, no harm done. I step away for a minute.
Then I hear two giggling boys behind the couch. And suddenly the phone rings.
"This is 9-1-1, what's you're emergency?"
My heart sinks. I tell them how sorry I am, like a million times. They ask if we are in need of any ambulance, fire service, police. I say, "NO!"
I then realize that Curley is screaming his guts out in the background. I tell you, that kid did not want to give up his precious phone! And I'm thinking, this probably doesn't sound too good to the 9-1-1 operator. I felt obligated to explain, "That's my 1-year-old screaming. He's just mad that I took the phone away from him."
Soon after, the doorbell rings. Yep, there's a nice officer on my doorstep, asking if we're all OK. I drag Mo up to the door so he can see exactly what happens when you dial 9-1-1.
Later he also got some talking to from Daddy and I, and some quizzing about what constitutes an emergency. In retrospect, I should have given him that lecture long before I even uttered the numbers 9-1-1 within earshot of that kid.
10 months ago