People, seriously. I went to CVS yesterday because I'd received some cryptic call about their needing my new insurance card which, by the way, I'd updated responsibly one month ago and have since used. Apparently our insurance managed to terminate itself like some rogue agent of bad; despite the fact that online our account shows as active, at CVS, we are unable to pick up prescriptions because it claims we've terminated. Grr. You can imagine how totally unexcited we are about just how long the call to remedy this situation will undoubtedly take. This morning, we said goodbye to Tom and finished getting ready. Five minutes later, I'm drying my hair and the kids yell, "MOM, DAD NEEDS YOU." I race downstairs with a ridiculous, half-complete coif to find Tom calling the police because last night some jackasses with BB guns shot out our car windows. Both of our cars and one of our neighbor's. Who does this? Who raised such heathens?
The police arrived to take a report at which point the children told them their birthdays (??) and then interviewed them about each aspect of their utility belts. The cops were very accommodating. I called a friend to give the kids a ride to school, and when she arrived, Oliver immediately told her son, a classmate and best buddy, "do you know what that policeman has on his belt??? BOMBS."
Hurriedly, I corrected him with "bullets" -maybe not a lot better, but better!- and tried to sort of change the topic by noting that Oliver's extensive network of stickers, which he's applied to his window over the past year, served as a neat evidence preserve and kept our car relatively clean. While the interior of T's car was covered in shattered glass, Ol's sticker web kept most of my window intact, clearly showing us the BB entry holes. Lovely. In the future, I will continue to allow him to sticker his window because, in addition to this new perk, I have never had trouble finding my car in a crowded parking lot since this became part of its decor!