So, I found out tonight that my son thankfully knows how to call the police, HOWEVER...he's in deep doodoo with me.
We were putting a puzzle together, laughing and saying silly stuff, and he somehow thought I called him a punk, which I didn't. I don't like for him to use the word, so I don't use it around him.
Well, he went into the living room and I thought he was going after his sketch pad. He came back though and said he called the police. I didn't believe him, and we went back to doing the puzzle.
Well, a few minutes later an officer shows up and said a little boy called him to and said his mother was calling him bad names. OH MY GOSH.
The officer was like, is she beating you? Jackson said, Um, No. She called me a punk and needs to go to jail. I COULD HAVE DIED!!!!
The officer had a nice little chat with Jackson about when to use 911 and when not to. I did too. I'm way embarrassed.
