So today I was unwillingly detained on the freeway by an only-doing-his-job-policeman. And I must admit, I was quite surprised when he turned on his lights. I got worried, just for a moment.
But then I checked these things:
1. seat belt on (check)
2. driving only 70mph in a 65 (check)
3. little baby Lu strapped into her 5 point safety car seat (check).
Conclusion: There was no way Mr. Policeman was REALLY pulling me over. Right?
Mr. Policeman probably really liked my cute hat and just wanted to chat...
So, I stopped anyway, since it's the law and all.
And I unrolled my window, and turned down my "How Great Thou Art" music, really, I am not fibbing. I was actually listening to a very lovely acapella rendition of the hymns...
And Mr. PM said, "Can I see your licence and registration."
Me (adjusting my very attractive hat): "Uhm yes. What's the problem?" (Really, WHAT could be the problem?)
Mr. PM: "Your registration is expired."
Me: "What? No. Not possible. I just registered it in August. Right? Didn't I? I swear I did..." (Now I go through every possible thing in my glove box.) And might I add, WHERE do all the non-essential things in my glove box come from? Papers, receipts, tithing envelopes, photos, homework that never got turned in, Dramamine, a binky...but registration? No. Heavens no. Not there.
Mr. PM: (He can tell this is going to take a while) "When you find your registration just wave it out the window."
Me: "I swear I have it..." (Lucy throws her binky at me). And so I call AW and he says, "Like I know..." and then he talks to some guy in his office about deadlines in India and says, "He'll just give you a ticket and then when you find your registration..." And then he starts talking about India again...so not helpful.
Mr. PM comes back, and he's smiling...you know that smile, like, "I love my job. I love writing tickets. Tra-la-la. I'm so happy to be me."
And I say, "I can't find it. Just give me a ticket."
And then something miraculous happens.
Like the reverse psychology thing I always try with my children (but it never works)...
I guess Mr. Policeman hasn't heard of reverse psychology...and he didn't like being told what to do because he said, "I'm not going to give you a ticket."
Me: (What? Really?) Stunned silence.
Mr. PM: "But just make sure you get your registration...blah. blah. blah." And I forget the rest, because I was so happy NOT to have a ticket.
Seriously. That is the first ticket I have ever NOT gotten in my whole life. From now on I'm telling everyone to "PLEASE give me a ticket. Pretty please. A ticket is just what I need."
And by the way, tonight I'm goint to say to AW..."Please DON'T do the dishes. Pretty please..." Maybe two's a charm.
And, where is my registration?
That is until we came to the song "Hot Chocolate!" As it turns out, Caliente Chocolate is Lucy's favorite song. Everytime it ended she'd say, "Uh-oh." And then, "Gen (Again)." And my favorite, a very fervent..."PEEEZ." How could I resist? It turns out, I couldn't. So I think we created the record for how many times one can listen to that song in a row...I think at least 30. Maybe more...Anyone for some hot chocolate? Peeez?
And now we navigate knowing how to comfort one another and especially our children who now have experienced one of life's great heartbreaks---saying goodbye to someone you love. But we are comforted by our knowledge of Heavenly Father's plan of happiness, and of hope, and of eternal families.
3. But now...
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