Dinner time should really be that time of day when the family winds down and shares their day. You sit at the table, tell eachother how school/work/thepark went and calmly and quietly eat and talk.

I’d recommend it NOT be the time of day when an alarm blares loud enough to actually be painful to your ears and sheriff’s deputies, with guns drawn, surround your house and peer through your windows.

I can make this recommendation speaking from experience, because my 6-year old had 3 cops cars at our house the other night...the gangsta.

Raise your hand if you have a junk drawer in your kitchen…. uh huh…I know you do. We do too. In the back of that junk drawer is a little remote control with a panic button.

As my son searched for AAA batteries for his Robot, he found the remote and, being six, pressed the red panic button.

Not the green button. Not the blue one. Not even the yellow one. No…he went straight for the red “holy fuck we’re being attacked’ panic button.

I was upstairs putting away laundry and cleaning screwing around on the computer when I heard

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

and there was much gnashing of teeth and screaming and crying and chaos.

Flying downstairs thinking the rapture was upon us I found my son screaming “make it stop! make it stop! make it stop!”while my daughter had dive-bombed herself under a blanket.

As calmly as I could I asked my son to show me exactly how this ungodly noise started in our home, realized it was the house alarm, and went to press the code to, in fact,  make it stop.

It seems in the midst of the chaos the alarm company called, we failed to answer (not hearing the phone over the alarm and all) and they immediately called the police.

So while I sat the kids down and had a nice discussion with them about NOT TOUCHING shit they aren’t supposed to touch, my brother exclaims “the cops are here…they have guns…I need my ID…”

I look out my front window to see a very nice sheriff’s deputy, gun drawn, at my front window.

Um…holy shit?

This news prompts the 6-year old to panic and cry, and me to sooth him with “don’t worry you’re not in trouble, the police just want to make sure we’re safe’ tones as I open the door and apologize to the …6 (?) uniformed deputies and plain clothed detectives out front.

Yes, I am fairly certain my son will never push another button again for as long as he lives.

Yes, I am really glad the cops showed up so quickly and were not hauling us all off to jail for screwing up.

Yes, I will- if this ever happens again- try and contact my alarm company a bit faster.

Yes, I cost my city tax payer dollars because I have a messy junk drawer.

and yes, even our quiet dinner times here are never, ever, dull.

No wonder the neighbors love us so much.