Well, we made it back safe and sound and, thanks to a beautiful washer and dryer at the house in Aspen, we did not come back with the usual truckload of dirty clothes. Dreamy.
We're all glad to be home but, if given the choice, would have stayed another year or so longer just to get really rested.
While we were gone we received a couple of emails that went something like this; "There have been two more (note: more) armed robberies at Blue Bunny Park so please use your utmost caution when driving by the park, especially at night." People are driving by the park headed home and three armed men have run out and stopped the car, stealing it and whatever is inside. Good times.
Blue Bunny Park is neither blue or has a bunny but is about a stone's throw from my house and on my route to and from home every day. Until this whole thing gets settled, Trey has asked me to please not drive by the park, even in the daytime. We have realized over the years that, when faced with a dangerous situation, my fight, not flight, instinct goes into hyperdrive. He's afraid that if confronted by a carjacker, instead of handing over the keys and getting the heck out of dodge, I just might hang onto the wheel and give that perp a piece of my mind.
Two years ago, we had just bought Graham, then three, a new bike complete with training wheels and I think a horn. One day, while I was at a Princess party with the girls, Graham called me and said, "Mommy, somebody stole-ed my bike."
"Baby, someone took your bike?!?"
"Yes, someone take-ed it and now I don't have a bike anymore." Sobs.
On the way home, with my girls dressed as princesses in the back of the car, I'm driving by the public housing and what do I see? A little bike chop shop in the back of one of the apartments and about ten kids going to town, dismantling bikes. I threw my car in reverse just to see if I was really seeing what I thought I was seeing. Yes, those are training wheels on the ground...and there...THERE'S GRAHAM'S BIKE!!!
I may have possibly cursed really low under my breath.
What I didn't do under my breath was jump out of the car and start yelling (or screaming, it's all in the ear of the beholder) through the wrought iron fence, "Hey! That's my son's bike! You stole a three year old's bike! Gimme back my bike right now!!! RIGHT NOW!!!!"
Then I saw Quincy's bike which had also been stolen. Now, I wanted all the bikes. Every last piece.
Some of the kids scattered but one of the punk a.., um, I mean, seriously misled child in need of a Redeemer, had the nachos to come to the fence and say to my face, "blah, blah, smart alec, blah blah, and what are you going to do about it?"
I think I screamed something like, "You stole a bike with training wheels on it, LOSER. And my father in law is the District Attorney of Dallas County and (this is where I totally lose it and embarrass myself, my family, and the human race in general) if you don't give me all those bikes, I'll have the entire police department down here in about five minutes!"
Ok, now, let's examine that statement for just a second.
The entire police department?
Was the bike owned by the President of the United States and he was still on it at the time of theft? Um, well, no.
Were these bikes linked somehow to National Security? Not really.
Could I get even one policeman to come recover a three year old's bike in fifty-five minutes? Yeah, pretty sure, no.
Ok, it was one of the stupidest things I have ever uttered but I was under duress and obviously not thinking clearly. OBVIOUSLY. It was a $50 bike and the guy could have had a gun or a big stick or something. But, did I mention it was Graham's bike and it had training wheels on it and he was home crying?
By the grace of God, who has heard some pretty stupid things in the past, they did start chucking the bikes over the fence, training wheels and all without beating me up or shooting me or anything really bad.*
So, needless to say, Trey is a little worried what might happen if I were to come into contact with someone threatening my children or their webkinz or something. For now, we'll be taking a different route out of the 'hood and praying the police will catch the thugs. Maybe I should pray for perspective and the ability to walk away, quickly, from a bad situation. You think?
*Full disclosure: During the little verbal skirmish, I had also called my husband in adrenaline induced tears and he came running down the street and jumped that fence like Superman. It kind of freaked out the bike thieves and that's when they started chunking pieces over the fence. It was not actually because of my inappropriate name dropping or imposing physique.
Just keepin' it real.