Mr. Tripp. Mr. Curiosity…
So… probably a story to go down in history for Tripp. Well,
really, there are two. And in ONE week.
Lesson 1: Don’t touch things you are not supposed to…
We went to Mildenhall to stay for a week while Marc had to
in process in Germany. I couldn’t stay in the tiny hotel room with two kids and
no kitchen alone, so we headed to the closest USAF base and got the kids an I a
TLF until Marc got back and our loaner furniture was delivered to the house.
ANYWAYS… since I didn’t have a car the kids and I would walk
to the commissary and the play areas everyday. On our walk, we would pass this
fenced in area with a big sign of a man being shocked to death and laying on
his back. Obviously, there was something highly electric behind the fence.
Every time we would pass the fence, Tripp would say,
“Mommy, I not touch that. That man is dead. That’s very
dangerous.”
So… one day, we were walking back to the room and Tripp
under his breath said,
“I’m going to touch it…”
I knew it wouldn’t hurt him and so I didn’t say anything.
Right, I mean RIGHT when he touched it the base decided to do a loud speaker
test and this loud, booming voice came from the sky. Tripp, freezes, looks at
me in sheer terror.
I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it. I looked at
him and asked him what he did and told him that they busted him touching the
fence. As I say this, a siren goes off.
Tripp looks at me again, this time like he’s going to flip out and takes
off running to the room. Saying,
“No, no. Don’t let them get me. Hurry mom, the police are
going to get me and take me to jail!!!”
Running. Running. Running. I kid you not, this boy ran for
about a quarter mile, nonstop. I couldn’t keep up with him I was laughing so
hard.
When we got to the room he closed the door and made me lock
the safety lock where he ran and jumped into bed hiding under the covers.
Later, I explained to him that it was a coincidence and no
one was coming to get him.
We had a good lesson about following rules and that rules
are there for your safety. I will never let him live this one down.
AND Lesson #2: As if he didn’t learn from Lesson 1… Don’t
touch things you don’t know…
We have a PANIC BUTTON.
Crazy huh?
I didn’t know, Marc didn’t know- but of course Tripp found
it for us.
We were enjoying a beautiful Saturday evening in our new
home. Marc and I were sweeping outside and the kids were in and out of the
house.
When… all of the sudden I Tripp turns to go inside and whispers
to himself,
“I’m going to touch the pink button.”
I had no clue what he was talking about. UNTIL…
The entire house goes up in an alarm.
The pink button is a panic button. Hidden by the door.
Not thinking about last weeks’ incident, I look at Tripp and
say,
“What did you do? Now the police are going to come!”
All I could think about was the bill we’d get for the police
coming all the way out to the house for a false alarm. We had no phone set up,
and we had NO code for the alarm.
Tripp, horrified runs in the house screaming bloody murder,
where he proceeds to lock himself in the den. After about 15 minutes of
ringing, Tripp runs outside telling us to stop the alarm and tell the police to
go away and then he runs and opens the car door and puts himself in his car
seat, while telling us to get in the car and get away from the police.
Oh. This. BOY! This curious, handful of a boy.
The cops never came. The alarm shut off after 30 minutes,
but it did make for another lesson learned. Don’t touch the pink button!
