Wednesday, November 7, 2007

My Crappy Day (or Why I May Take A Page From Medea's Book)

On Wednesdays I volunteer at Girl's school library. I've talked about what a nightmare that is before. On the way home at 3 o'clock, I stopped to pick up a couple of groceries that we so desperately needed, and then we hit traffic (which in my area doesn't mean a lot of cars so much as a few people going very slow and completely preventing you from getting around them). So instead of getting home at 3:30 like I normally do, I got home at 3:45 and walked into a big mess.
You see normally on days when I get Girl from preschool, Boy gets home between 5 and 10 minutes before I do. There have been occasions where I have either worked or picked up spazzy friends who've missed their flights due to talking to cute boys and he was alone all the way until 4 when Mr. Hobbitfeet got home. He's always been okay (although sometimes he's been scared by acorns).
Anyhow for some reason today he freaked out and tried to call my cellphone, but called my old number and instead of saying, "Sorry wrong number," and trying again, Boy started crying and begging the person who answered to get me because he was at home alone. Now be aware that he only got home at around 3:30. Now I am in the garage trying to corral Girl, her stuffed menagerie and an armload of groceries which takes five minutes, I get to the door and Boy flings it open, crying with the phone in one hand demanding to know where I've been.
I look at the clock which reads 3:44, and start putting away groceries while trying to decipher what Boy's trying to tell me through his tears.
Then the phone rings. It's 911. They ask me if I am an adult and if I am at home with Boy. I say yes and ask if he called 911. They say no that whoever he had talked to was worried and called them. I tell them that I was a little late picking up his sister, but everything was fine. They ask me if he's 6, I say that he's 10 and they say everything is good they were just checking. That a police car was en route but they'll call him back, and we hang up.
Now I'm really trying to figure out what is going on. Boy's hyperventilating because 911 just called, and then the police car pulls up into our driveway.
So now I am standing on the porch explaining what is going on to the policeman while my kids stare at us through the screen door. Thankfully they found the whole thing funny and I won't be facing any DCFS inquires (as far as I know).
Obviously Mr. H and I are trying to come up with alternatives to letting Boy be at home for a short amount of time while I pick up Girl. We thought he was ready, clearly he's not.

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