A while back I was at the police station. Just to set the record straight, I did not arrive handcuffed in the back of a police car. I was there on my own free will … and no, not turning myself in either.
During my visit, I noticed a sign on the wall that said something about children being impounded if they were running loose and unattended. I’m certain that this sign was meant to serve as a warning, but I think all parents can agree that it feels more like an incentive. A real warning sign would have read, “All children running loose and unattended will be impounded WITH their parents, in a small room, while ‘Frozen’ is played over and over again.’” THAT sign would ensure all parents kept their children in check. Merely impounding children smells like freedom.
“They are going to impound my children?!” I thought to myself. “As in, locking them up? This is supposed to be a bad thing?”
Not wanting to miss out on this golden opportunity, I immediately let all three of my children run loose and unattended. Just to be on the safe side, I also gave them a cup of coffee to ensure they would REALLY be running loose. I figured the crash would hit after impoundment and thus, it wouldn’t be my problem. On a side note, I imagine “Not my problem!” is the motto of grandparents everywhere. I know for a fact that my dad says this to himself as he gives my 2-year-old a Tootsie Roll that is three times bigger than she is.
Anyway, as my children ran loose and unattended all over the station, I kept looking at my watch. Actually I checked the time on my cellphone. No one wears a watch anymore. As the minutes passed by, I thought, “Anytime now! They are really out of control!” Nothing. No one impounded them. It was an empty promise. The sign was nothing but a false advertisement, which is against the law, but who will arrest the arrestors? No one.
Instead of leaving the police station a free woman (as advertised), I left the police station with all three children, who had missed nap time. In that moment, I wished I had been brought down to the station handcuffed in the back of a cop car. At least then, maybe I would have gotten to eat meals alone in my cell. Hey, wait … that gives me another idea.
If you would like to help me break a minor law, resulting in a kid-free weekend in jail, e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
I’m just kidding … mostly.