Oh Great! It’s the Cops!

Have you ever said to yourself, ‘Wow, the police are at my house kind of a lot?’

yeah, me too!

The police were at my house this last weekend for reasons that had very little to do with me and nothing to do with any of my children. Or Blair.  A friend was in a jam and needed a place to hang out for minute and file a report.

But it got me thinking. This is the second time in a year they have been here, and, if I am being truthful, they have been here at least a half dozen times over the past several years.

The first time, someone threw a paint thing (I don’t know what the heck it was) at our front door and we called the police to file a report.

Let’s not count the times I have been pulled over.

But we can count the times I was called by a person in authority (principal, store manager, other parent) to come to a place where my child and the police were both conveniently located.

We can also count the times I called 911, which were ALL Timothy’s doing. Not that he called, but that he was himself having an emergency and we kindly called for him;)

We can also count the times the police showed up at our home, uninvited by us (invited by a neighbor who shall remain nameless because I don’t remember her name) to inform us that we were playing the drums too loudly. And by us, I mean, one of our kids and his friends.

We used to have a daycare girl, who is in the 5th grade now, who, everytime she saw a police car would yell, “OH GREAT! It’s the COPS!” We would laugh and tease her mom about exactly how often the police have to come to your house to get your 3 yr old to say that:)

The police were at her house one time, because this same 3 yr old used to insist on her baby doll riding in a carseat in their minivan and some helpful soul called 911 to investigate a baby that had been left alone in a hot car. And then, when the cops were asking her about her ‘baby’, and she was insisting she did not have a baby, there was little Miss Helpful insisting that they did in fact have a baby which they kept in the car because the baby liked it.  Things were very dicey for a few moments until the officer saw for himself the plastic and fabric ‘baby’ lovingly fastened safely in a carseat:)

So I know I’m not the only one who has had some good times with local law enforcement:)

But when your husband calls you from church, because the neighbors (who, by the way SHOULD HAVE BEEN AT CHURCH) drive by your house, see the cop cars and then tell him about it, asks, ‘Um, why are they police at our house?’ in a calm, conversational voice, you know that the police may have, just maybe, been at your house one time too many:)