Goingons at My House
Two nights ago, well after dark, our two big dogs in the back yard set off an alarm as if the devil himself was prowling the alley. I went to the back door to see why and to tell the dogs to shut-up. There was a guy with one of those forehead flashlights lit up holding what looked like a baseball bat over the top of another one huddled on the ground. The guy yelled, “Call 911. Just caught this guy breaking the window out of your car.” The crusty old neighbor man’s voice. Whew. I hustled right back inside and dialed 911 and reported what happening. I then went out to see what Charlie had caught and to tell him that officers were on their way.
A young, around twentyish, kid looked up at me through my chain link fence. “Don’t call the police, I can’t get in trouble.”
“Too late. They on their way.” I then asked him, “What is wrong with you. You just broke out the window on a car that belongs to a gal with three little kids.”
Three patrol cars promptly arrived and one of the officers asked whose car it was and I told him my granddaughter’s and that I’d go wake her up.
When the officer asked her if she had given the guy on the ground permission to get in her car she said no and yes she’d sign a complaint. The officer then asked if she had something valuable in the car.
“No,” she said. “All I have is baby wipes, pullups and sunscreen.” Loved her answer.
I’m telling all this to lead up to the next morning. I was in charge of my two and four year old little great grandsons. I caught the baby on a chair pushed up against the kitchen cabinets playing with my landline telephone. I could hear it ringing someone on the other end. I snatched it away and pushed end call. I no more than hung it up and it rang. Umm? It was the 911 operator saying she just got a hang up call from this number. I explained that my little grandson had been playing with the phone. She talked for a bit and then said she tell the officers. Umm? About ten minutes later, I heard a knocking on my front door. Then another louder knock. I scooped up the two-year-old and carried him to answer the door. A kind officer was standing there ready to protect us. Good grief. I explained I had called 911 the night before and the little guy I was holding must have hit the redial button on the phone.
I looked down. A pair of toy handcuffs were held tightly in his pudgy fists. Oh good grief. “Yep, we’re playing sheriff. We like the guys in blue.”
The officer told the boys to mind their grandma and left.