Of course, after I hear about all the parties and fetes TriniD went to while in Jamaica this month, I vowed to get a couple of girls-only lime of my own. Payback right?
My first opportunity came Friday night to celebrate my girl KD's birthday at a Moroccan restaurant in Virginia. Not wanting to stir the pot and trigger an onslaught of questions, whining and begging from the boys to get out the house, I punked out and just snuck out without telling them goodbye.
The report from TriniD when I came back was that Mischiefmaker#1 bawled for hours when he learned I had escaped.
"Why did mommy leave, doesn't she know it's dangerous out there?" Mischiefmaker#1 asked.
What da? The things kids say, right? Where did he get this concept from...hmmm?
Anyway, TriniD offers to call me so Mischiefmaker#1 can at least hear my voice and maybe then feel better.
Mischiefmaker#1 responds, "Yes, we have to find mommy, let's call "911"".
"....What? No! no! not 911, Mischiefmaker#1, that's for real emergencies like if Daddy or Mommy or Grandma fall down and can't get up, you can call 911 for help." TriniD tells him.
But why, why I ask, did the 911 emergency operator call our house moments later and ask if there's an emergency cause they just got a call from our number!?!?!?!!
Needless to say, Mischiefmaker#2 never felt daddy's wrath so much before as when TriniD had to very sternly tell him to never use that number again for such foolishness.
Despite the seriousness of it all, I couldn't help but to crack up at the episode. What goes on in children's heads, you know?
Well, at least we now know that if push came to shove and it was a real emergency, our boy Mischiefmaker#2 had our back! (smile)
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