Dexter called the police Friday.
I don't like to let him play with the phone, which means it is the most desirable thing in the world to him. He loves to clutch it in his chubby hands and push the beeping buttons. Here is some proof:
So on Friday, against my better judgement, I let him hold the phone. He was sitting on my lap while I was writing an email, and trying to bang on the keyboard (more buttons that beep.) If I just keep hanging up the phone after three or four beeps, he can never call Zimbabwe, right? Quickly finished email, extracted phone and we went about our merry way.
About twenty minutes later, we are quietly hanging on the couch while Dex has his 5pm bottle. BANG BANG on the door. I thought it was UPS, the afternoon guy tends to just bang on the door. I swing it open, and there are three of LA Finest.
"Uh...can I help you?"
"You called 911?"
I was absolutely mortified. Dexter was delighted to see new people, and cooed and smiled in my arms.
"I let the baby play with the phone. Oh my God. I'm not going to get a ticket or a fine or something?"
"No ma'am. Are you sure everything is okay?"
They then proceeded to ask about Steve and his whereabouts, and the neighbors (we live in a duplex) but didn't actually ask to search the premises, which I found out later is usually the standard procedure in case someone is hiding out of sight and putting me up to talking to police. I must have been pretty convincing, as they just went away after that.
I should find it funny, but I'm embarrassed to have wasted taxpayer money on a false alarm. Steve said most of their day ends up being stuff like this. I guess a cushy false alarm at the end of the day is not the worst thing that happened to those cops on Friday. Steve saw them hanging out chatting down at the corner when he came home 15 minutes later, so they weren't in that big of a hurry.
Dexter is no longer allowed to play with any phones.
