A Family of Fugitives

I have always been a law abiding citizen. I've paid my taxes on time, obey the laws and haven't caused any trouble for society. I have never been investigated by law enforcement for a crime. This being said, I am dismayed that both my husband and my toddler have had run-ins with the law.

A few weeks ago, Robby learned about chickens at his animal class. He eagerly chatted about eggs the entire drive home. He was happy and excited to recount everything he learned.

Listening to my little chatterbox, I suppose I didn't immediately notice the police car driving behind me. I noticed the cruiser after they pulled into the driveway behind me. Instantly, I began to shake and my heart started to beat fast.

Upon exiting the car, the officer approached me and asked my name. I told him, and he asked to speak with my son. I questioned the officer about his business with Robby. I was informed, in a matter of fact, don't mess with me tone, that a complaint of breaking and entering was lodged against my son.

Apparently a not-so-friendly neighbor accused Robby of breaking into her garage and trying to steal her lawn mower. I assured the officer that this was impossible. The officer wouldn't let me finish my explanation and insisted on speaking with my son.

Again, I tried to explain that it was impossible for Robby to have committed this crime. In a patronizing tone, I was told that parents are often surprised by the actions of their children and was again directed to produce Robby.

I opened up the back door, and unstrapped Robby. He popped out of his car seat, looked at the officer, and with a huge gapped-tooth grin said, "Egg egg egg." After the shock wore off, and it became obvious that Robby was not the budding criminal that was suspected, the officer apologized for the inconvenience.

My son is only three, and he already had a criminal investigation under his belt (or, should I say, under his diaper).

In March, I went to Allentown, PA to help my cousin plan her wedding. We parked in front of the future reception site. I found a ticket on the car window when we were finished with the meeting.

I wrote to the parking commission and enclosed the ticket. I explained that the lot did not have clearly defined signs. I did not receive a response. Honestly, I forgot about the ticket and assumed that my explanation was accepted.

That is, until I opened the mail today to find an arrest warrant for my husband. My heart started beating fast, and I had a difficult time catching my breath. I encouraged Robby to run as we returned home. He wanted to meander and I was in a rush. I tried to explain that we needed to get home before they threw Daddy in the Pokey.

He didn't understand, and began to throw a temper tantrum. I swooped up Robby (no easy feat with my broken wrist). I endured him screaming in my ear and and kicking his legs on the walk back to the house. To say I was in a panic is an understatement.

Apparently a warrant had been issued for Scott's arrest due to a failure to pay the parking ticket. We called and the situation is being rectified. After the shock wore off, Scott approached me with a question. If he had to go to jail, could he have a tattoo? He is not going to go to prison, but I am going to be forced to endure weeks of ridicule and jokes about getting him arrested. I did warn him, if the jokes continue, he shouldn't count on conjugal visits.