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Hello, Mr. Policeman

My youngest daughter got my attention this afternoon when she came in the door crying because the police 'had her brother'.

Um, really?

Yep, that got me out of the laundry room and outside.

It turns out the police had come by to check on my son and his friends who were out playing on some small gas powered dirt bikes.

These are small bikes, fairly quiet and all the kids who were riding them had helmets on. Trust me they didn't look like thugs or anything, the bikes are slow and um, un-threatening - the police weren't needed. 

After some discussion the police basically told the kids that they were not allowed to use these bikes on our public dead end quiet cul-de-sac street without a license and insurance. 

My daughter was soon calm again.

Still, you want my attention? Just tell me the police, with their lights flashing on their cars, are out front talking to my twelve year old kid.

That'll get my attention.


2 thoughts on “Hello, Mr. Policeman

  1. my brother was about that age (or younger) when he got picked up for hanging out in a new-in-stage-built house in our n’hood.
    sadly, it wasn’t the only time.
    maybe he shouldn’tve come back home excitedly exclaiming to me about the “jail” he went to and had “a food fight”.


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