When I was a kid, I called 911. And then I promptly hung up, ran away, and hid in my room when our phone started ringing almost immediately. I hid as I listened to my dad explain to the dispatcher that everything was fine, he was actually an off-duty officer, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the little girl who had just run through the house to hide in her room was somehow related to the mysterious call.
And that dang call was brought up every year, starting with the time he came and did a safety talk for my kindergarten class. It was his opener for years and years of safety talks. He'd break the ice with kids, afraid of this very tall man in a uniform, by telling them that even his own daughter hung up on the 911 dispatcher.
I have done a lot of safety talks for kids and yes, even I have told this story. But in a couple of weeks I get to do my very first safety talk, in uniform, to my own child's class. I have been worrying more than usual, rehearsing and planning, excited to let my two worlds collide while my kid still thinks I'm cool. I'm pretty sure in about a decade, I won't be allowed to set foot anywhere near her school campus let alone her classroom in my uniform.
So I am ready to let myself be embarrassed once more, at my own doing, with a big dose of gratitude that my daughter hasn't yet figured out that if you hang up on the dispatcher, they really do call right back.
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