Well. He has said something in the past about calling 9-1-1 when he is mad. Mommy told him not to do such a thing. He wanted to know why, so his Mommy told him that the police officers that showed up would be angry if this was not an emergency.
Well. Dylan thought about that for awhile, and eventually decided that, like the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus, this was just another fairy tale that adults told little children. So, when Mommy was asleep from her night shift and Daddy was watching the kids, Dylan called 911 to see what would happen.
Guess what? The police DID show up at the door. He got lectured by a policeman. Then, when the policeman left, he got his bottom spanked by his daddy, and he had to stay in his room all day to think about his misdeeds. Personally, I think that may have been a bad thing. He probably used the time to plan even more misdeeds (grin). He’s not supposed to play with his friends or watch TV or do a lot of other stuff for two whole weeks.
Mommy was *VERY* exasperated as she relayed all of this to me. This was all familiar territory to me, though. When Mommy was a little toddler, I told her NOT to touch the space heater as I reached into the bathtub to pull her brother out. “Don’t TOUCH! It’s HOT! It will hurt you!” “HOT!” she repeated, and deliberately put her hand on the space heater just because I said not to. She had grill marks after that, and a new appreciation for the word “hot”. We spent a lot of time in the ER when she was smaller. I had serious doubts about her surviving childhood because if her injuries (from doing things we told her not to) didn’t kill her, I might.
So, daughter, give him a break (a leg would be fine). He’s JUST LIKE YOU! There’s a reason my hair is gray, you know.