Max dials 9-1-1

 Max loves to talk on the phone.  He often calls me when I am out running errands to chat, tattle or let me hear what he is doing.  I was rushing like crazy one late afternoon this week to get dinner ready before I had to pickup the next child from soccer/kidshine/tennis/running/singing/piano, etc.  I asked Max to call Robert to see if he would make it home for dinner.  I helped him dial the number and leave a message.  Then a minute or so later, the phone rang.  I assumed it was Robert calling back so I gave the phone to Max and said, "It's probably Dad calling back."   I got busily back to work and then Max handed the phone to me and said, "Mom, it's the police."  Well, I started laughing.  Robert loves to play tricks on all of us on the phone.  He's called the kids from the our bedroom and asked them if their Mom was home.  He's called me before and said he was the police.   So I picked up the phone giggling away like an idiot and it was the police!   I guess Max decided to see what all the fuss was about and dialed 9-1-1 after he called Robert.  I explained what happened and told them we were fine but they insisted on sending an officer out.  Maybe they thought I was abusing prescription happy pills since I was giggling when I answered the phone?

 Max was worried they might take him to jail.  I was so mad,  I really wanted to go with that and scare him a little.  Luckily, the nice mom in me won out and I reassured him that he would stay safely at home but that I would probably be jailed and he would have no one to cook, clean or buy his video games for him.  Okay, not really but it was tempting.  I vacillated between lecturing and reassuring and I made him write and apology note.  I also put together quite a brilliant speech on why we shouldn't call 9-1-1 unless it is a life-threatning emergency, unfortunately, it was a little too late.  When I was giving the speech, I  envisioned myself giving it in thousands of households and school assemblies and all the kids chanting : We won't embarrass our mothers by calling 9-1-1!  We won't ever want a cell phone!  Alright, so I got a little carried away.

When the scowl-on-his-face-because-you-seperated-me-from-my dinner officer arrived (40 minutes later, I might add! We timed him.  I thought we should at least glean some useful information out of this bad situation.  It took him so long to arrive, I decided I'm buying a gun.  Actually, I'm not because if I can't keep my kid from calling 9-1-1, I shouldn't be trusted with a gun.)  He got a stern talking to from the police officer and I felt like I was a shoo-in for the worst mother of the year award.   We are probably lucky we didn't get the bill! Actually, now I'm worried.  I hope we don't get a bill.  Sigh.  Hopefully, we will all be using the phone more responsibly now.

Max and the Case of the Missing Shoes

Max has a mischievous streak.  He got in trouble the other day at school for picking up all his little Kindergarten friends.  He is fascinated by his tallness.  He talks about it all the time.   He certainly is testing me with his resistance to homework, picking up anything at all that belongs to him and his favorite pastime of dropping a shoe here or there (Never, ever in the same place, of course.)  That is why you will often see him with mismatching flip flops.  Thank goodness, he does not discriminate because it works out quite nicely that we usually have a right flop and a left flip.
On a side note, relating to shoes, this past Sunday we were our usual late to church selves rushing out the door when Max decides to throw a HUGE tantrum because he wants to bring his LeapPad to play with it in sacrament meeting.  I mean, come on!?  Really, Max?  How well do we know one another?  When have I EVER let you do that?  (Oh, yeah, that's right, your dad plays on his phone during church all the time.  Yes, well now I can see the confusion.)  Anyway, I calm him down and tell him to grab his church shoes so he can put them on in the car.  While I am speeding to church, I hear him utter words that strike absolute fear into my heart.  "My shoes don't fit me, Mom!"   No words.  Seriously.  No words.  And he was right.  It didn't matter how I tugged, pushed, pulled, wiggled, and jammed his feet absolutely refused to fit.  So, Max went to church without shoes on.  That's right, in his socks.  I was grateful they were at least church socks and not the regular white gym socks he normally tries to sneak by me on Sunday.  I tried to shame him.  "You should be SO embarrassed to wear only socks to church, Max!"  "Why, Mom? My socks will only get a little dirty."  (!)