We like to call 911 at our house. Just for fun.
Last year it was Rosalie, age one, who dialed for emergency help. Have you ever noticed that the 9 and the 1 are conveniently located near the edges of the phone where fat little thumbs can squeeze them repeatedly?
That's when we learned that they have to dispatch an officer whenever there is a call. Just in case someone is trying to get help and someone else, like a kidnapper, is stopping them.
This time it was our 10-year-old calling 911 just to shock her older sister.
"I thought the phone was off!" she protested, when her dad informed her the police had returned her call.
When the officer arrived, (Finally! Good thing it wasn't a real emergency.) she refused to face him and hid behind her hands and her dad until he left. Just like someone who'd been threatened by evil kidnappers who didn't want her to be identified. Kidnappers who hoped to reassure the police by letting them see a regular family with a daughter too embarrassed to show her face. A face which was probably as red as her hair. The only red hair in the whole "family". . .