The Alarm Works!

One thing I have learned about being the mother of preschoolers is to expect the unexpected.

Why have I learned that? Well, I shall share an example. Last week, after returning from Squeaker’s tumbling class, my 78-year old Grandmother stopped by to pick up her empty jelly jars and a current family photo of our family. (By the way, my Grandma makes the BEST grape jelly!)

After a short visit, I walked my Grandma to her car. While standing on the lawn saying goodbye, two police patrol cars rolled up to my house.

That’s strange you say? It would be, if our house didn’t have two very curious children living in it.

My Grandma smiled at me, jumped in her car and left. I can’t imagine why she wanted to leave so quickly, but she did.

I walked back to the door and yelled to my husband, “Hey, the police are here.” Not something you expect to say, but none the less. My husband came to the door and we greeted the two rather large, burly men with menacing guns on their belts.

“Are you guys okay?” They ask. “Someone at this address pressed the silent panic button on your alarm.”

And, it all becomes clear.

Let me digress. After tumbling class, we returned home and waited for Grandma to come over. In the meantime, I started dinner while my husband was working at his desk upstairs. During this time, random buttons were squawking over the alarm speaker, but it never said it was armed. (Yes, our alarm talks to us – also strange). Needless to say, I thought my husband was doing something to the alarm and he thought I was. After investigation, I found Squeaker, standing on a stool, making music on the alarm key pad. It didn’t look like she had “done” anything so I scolded her and let it go………

And, back to the story. We profusely apologized to the officers and explained what had happened. They stayed slightly stern and proceeded to write us a warning for answering a false alarm.

The really funny part….while these men were standing there, I decided to use it as a teaching moment. So, I called Squeaker over.

“Squeaker,” I said, “This is Officer Kelly and Officer Sanders. You called them and now they are here. “

Squeaker, in her pale pink tumbling tutu and Shirley Temple curly hair, looked at the men and apologized and before my eyes, these menacing giants turned to puddles pooling around the ankles of our three year old.

In the end, four police officers (there were two patrol cars mind you) stood in the street and waved to our little princess as if she had just performed the lead role in the Nutcracker.

Moral of the story? I’m not sure. Perhaps it should be to teach the kids that the alarm key pad is not a piano.