Saturday night was a lazy night. The Dad was playing Warhammer in an all-day tournament that was turning into an all-night tournament. Sigh. But he was doing well and that is kinda cool. Me and the kids were being lazy and relaxing, it had been a busy enough week and Eldest was still recovering from his knee surgery. Trout and I had taken a bath and, seeing as the Dad wasn't home and wouldn't be home for a while, I was walking around with wet, uncombed, einsteinish hair.
I was just gathering the ingredients for brownies, because Eldest had the "munchies' due to his drugs (from the surgery people, sheesh) when the local sheriff popped his head in my back door. Now I know who the guy is, but it's not like we are best buddies or anything. It's definitely not normal for him to pop over and say hi.
"Everyone okay?" He asked. Um, yeah, duh. "We got a 911 hang-up call from this address."
Crap. That would be my fault. I gave Trout the phone, he loves to push the buttons, listen to them beep and watch the phone light up. Apparently he managed to hit the magic combination of 9+1+1+send. Color me embarrassed. Even more so when I had a chance to catch a glimpse of me in the mirror with my wet, einsteinish hair. I scolded Trout but he just looked at me with his big baby blues,
"Who? Me?"
2 comments:
Ummm oops! That Trout is one talented little boy.
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