In this house

911

911

When my son was young I tried to teach him good ole fashioned values. I thought that even though he was a boy he should be able to do things, you know, like dishes, making his bed, vacuuming. I thought he should clean his room; well he was the one who messed it up. You’re thinking... what kind of mother is she? Back then it was okay to teach your children to do chores (and not pay them for it), it was okay to tell them no (and mean it) and it was okay not to let them sit in front of the television (not having a remote helped).

It was a Saturday morning, house-cleaning day in this house, when the 911 incident occurred. The usual battle had begun by my telling him that he needed to clean his room for the umpteenth time. Even at six they don’t listen so good. After several threats of no playing, no you can’t go outside and no, Timmy can’t come play, I did what any mother used to do, clean it up or else! Being my son, he had the audacity to tell me he needed help. What? He didn’t need my help to make the mess! So with strict marching orders to get it cleaned up or get a spanking he skulked off to his room.

With my having hightailed it to the laundry room I never heard him dial the phone. Yep, 911. When the doorbell rang I was busy with the dishes, so imagine my surprise when I opened the door (dishpan hands and a towel slung over my shoulder) to see two uniformed paramedics! Insisting that they were responding to an emergency call at this location (namely my son’s room) I tried to explain that I hadn’t called them. My insistence did not pay off; they had indeed received a call for help, from my son!

After assuring them that he did not need their help (yet), I was informed, ever so politely mind you, that I would be billed for their trip out. He just might need their help after all. The moral of the story, always explain the definition of the word HELP when teaching your child to use the phone!