You know that cute as a bug kid you see at the top of the page? That’s my Nick. And the outfit you see him in? A police uniform I pulled together on Ebay. What in the world did we do before Ebay?? That was a Christmas present at least four Christmases ago.
Nick, for as long as I can remember, has been fascinated with police. “Cops” is his favorite show. We DVR it…and use it as leverage. He will watch anything having to do with police and their job. He says he wants to be a “cop” when he grows up. *sigh*
Along with that cute outfit, we have a friend who gave him a “real” police belt, along with handcuff pocket, etc. And we had already gone through about 3 pairs of toy handcuffs. So we decided to buy him the real things. They would last, right? And they came with two keys which my husband and I held onto. What could be the harm?
Well, he LOVED the handcuffs, and he used them to “arrest” his dad, along with anybody else who would cooperate. Well, our lives being what they are–hectic–he lost the handcuffs…and we lost the keys. No biggie.
He found the handcuffs again. Great. Just what I needed to worry about. So I tell Nick very clearly he can’t play with them until we can find the handcuff keys. And he gives me that look. And he begs me, “Mommy, please. Please. Mommy, PLEASE!” And I, having absolutely no will against that face..relent.
And I give him the rules…NO handcuffing your brother…NO handcuffing the dog…No handcuffing the cat…NO handcuffing anybody until we find the keys. Got it? “Yes….I PROMISE!!”
And things were fine, for a few days. And then, one Friday night, after an exhausting day, I am winding down watching a little TV. I hear the metallic clinging of the handcuffs, and then I hear…silence. I am so tired it didn’t register right away. It was eerily quiet for about ten minutes, and then it dawned on me…that is NOT good. Silence in a house of boys means only two things..either they are all asleep at the same time(rarely the case) or they are up to something.
I investigate, and I see Nick frantically trying to get his own ankle out of the handcuffs. And I freak. I said, “Are you kidding me, Nick?” Well…more accurately…I yelled that.
And he sits there in the chair..looking so pitiful..any sane person would have melted and figured out a solution.
But I was not sane in that moment.
So I ranted a bit…kept asking stupid questions like, “What were you thinking?” He is a boy. They don’t think…they ACT.
Finally, after searching for about 45 minutes in every place I could think of for the elusive handcuff key, I hopped online and researched it. How many times have I witnessed people escaping from handcuffs on TV…often within seconds? Despite what I learned on the ‘net…it was not happening.
I was in a quandary. If I called 911 what would they think? How could a sane person allow her son to play with a set of very real handcuffs? Would they wonder if I was lying and the handcuffs were really mine? Ewwwww….
And then it hit me. How could I not have thought about it before? We are friends with not one, but two police officers…police officers who know about Nick and his love of all things cop-related. So I called. Thankfully one was going to be home shortly. So, about an hour later we arrive at their house…and Nick’s ankle is freed.
He gave us a spare key we could keep in a safe place in case this ever happens again. Now if I could just remember where that safe place is….hmmmm…..