I told my girlfriend, Michelle, that I would watch her 3 children early one morning last week so that she could attend an appointment without an entourage. Because that’s the kind of friend I am.
The children, ranging in ages 2 to 13 frolicked in the house having a wonderful time. My friend called to check on the kids, and I told her to take her time, as everything was under control.
A short time later, Fiddledaddy informed me that the local sheriff was en route to our home. He had some questions about our identity theft that happened earlier this year and they offered to come by to answer his questions. Then he turned back, “Hey. Wouldn’t it be funny if Michelle drives up and there is a patrol car in our driveway?”
Oh yes indeed. Fiddledaddy shares my warped sense of fun.
A couple of very nice Sheriff’s Deputies arrived at our door and came into the house. At about that time my friend texted to say that she was on her way. I replied, “OKIEDOKIE.”
The children, sensing the fun that was about to ensue, gathered in the hall to watch the show. We explained the pending circumstance to one of the officers who offered, “Shall I answer the door?” “Oh yes, please do.”
My friend was on the phone with her mother when she pulled up to the house. The Sheriff’s patrol car was one house down, so no worries there. But then she walked up to the door and the Sheriff answered. She hung up her cell phone abruptly, not telling her mother what she faced at our door. I’m considered one of her more sketchy friends, so she didn’t want her mother to worry. I suppose.
I’ve never known my friend to be speechless. Ever. First the color drained from her face. Then she turned bright red. The Sheriff opened the door and she walked in. At about this time, all the children began to laugh uproariously. (In the interest of full disclosure, hers were the loudest.)
After her heart began beating once again, and the actual situation was explained, she breathlessly told us that she was sure her 2 year old had escaped and was running rampant throughout the neighborhood. Or worse.
There was some talk of paybacks, which I pray are aimed at Fiddledaddy since it was his dastardly plan. But I reminded my friend that she would have done the same thing. I know her.
She reluctantly agreed. Except that she would have splattered ketchup all over the front porch.
Because that’s what friends are for.
Strangely, none of our other friends have asked me to watch their children since.
MY MASTER PLAN. (insert maniacal laughter)