Today was a good day until the policeman showed up. (We just have one on duty. It's a small town.) As surprised as I was to have an officer at my door, I was even more surprised by what he was about to say.
"Hello ma'am. I'm following up on a phone call to 911 made from your house. A short while ago a call was placed and the caller quickly hung up. Is everything okay?"
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. One of the kids must have done that. I will take care of it and I promise it won't happen again."
"Okay then. Well, let me just get your name and I'll be on my way."
While brewing with anger and embarrassment, I summoned the troops from the toy room. The troops consisted of my two-year-old and three preschoolers. I asked firmly for the guilty party to step forward. The preschoolers named my two-year-old as the caller. (Now I know for a fact Noah is capable of pushing the speaker phone button and the handset locater button, but I highly doubt she is able to put together the number combination 9-1-1 successfully.) I inquired again, a bit more firmly, and Braden, a highly active and very intelligent four-year-old, began to squirm in his chair. His confession followed shortly.
Now, what sort of punishment would fit this crime? I walked him, and everyone else, to the front door and showed him the police car still sitting in my driveway. Fear fell across the crowd.
I do not think he will be calling 911 ever again.