The police come knocking
Tuesday, December 16th, 2014
Last night we waved Grandpa off for his lengthy journey back to the Isle of Mull. Thus concluded 12 days of bearing witness to the somewhat controlled chaos of life in the Ferguson household. It was wonderful to have the opportunity for the kids to spend so much time with Grandpa. We did all the usual activities, visiting museums, get out in the snow, eating, playing, buying a Christmas tree and visiting family.
Today was a day of two halves, the first being a sleepy, slow morning around the house. The second being a chance meeting with Christine and an afternoon of sledding in the nearby park followed by some hot chocolate and re-warming. It's hovering around freezing which by Ottawa winter standards is quite mild but it's damp and windy so it feels like a British bone chiller.
As we were settling down to get the kids to bed the doorbell rang. The was a police car on the road, no lights, just sitting there. And a friendly police officer at the door. First thoughts were "community policing rounds" and "what has the dog been up to". Apparently we had dialled 911. We, we have to assume, meaning Toby, age 14 months. Luckily the hallway was dark-ish because I am sure I was bright red with embarrassment. The office asked to come in, fortunately not making it as far as the living room where she would surely have assumed that we were being held hostage or had had a domestic dispute given that every toy we own was strewn across the floor. In nearly 3 years of playing with phones, this is not something that Felicity has achieved so I suppose well done Toby but please don't do it again. By the time the officer left a second car had pulled up. I await the bill.
As promised I have added some photos to the previous posts now that I have extracted them from the camera. And British readers can look forward to their Christmas card and round robin letter arriving soon-ish. It took a midnight session to achieve and I was rewarded with a 4.50am wake up call from our resident crank-caller.
Last night we waved Grandpa off for his lengthy journey back to the Isle of Mull. Thus concluded 12 days of bearing witness to the somewhat controlled chaos of life in the Ferguson household. It was wonderful to have the opportunity for the kids to spend so much time with Grandpa. We did all the usual activities, visiting museums, get out in the snow, eating, playing, buying a Christmas tree and visiting family.
Today was a day of two halves, the first being a sleepy, slow morning around the house. The second being a chance meeting with Christine and an afternoon of sledding in the nearby park followed by some hot chocolate and re-warming. It's hovering around freezing which by Ottawa winter standards is quite mild but it's damp and windy so it feels like a British bone chiller.
As we were settling down to get the kids to bed the doorbell rang. The was a police car on the road, no lights, just sitting there. And a friendly police officer at the door. First thoughts were "community policing rounds" and "what has the dog been up to". Apparently we had dialled 911. We, we have to assume, meaning Toby, age 14 months. Luckily the hallway was dark-ish because I am sure I was bright red with embarrassment. The office asked to come in, fortunately not making it as far as the living room where she would surely have assumed that we were being held hostage or had had a domestic dispute given that every toy we own was strewn across the floor. In nearly 3 years of playing with phones, this is not something that Felicity has achieved so I suppose well done Toby but please don't do it again. By the time the officer left a second car had pulled up. I await the bill.
As promised I have added some photos to the previous posts now that I have extracted them from the camera. And British readers can look forward to their Christmas card and round robin letter arriving soon-ish. It took a midnight session to achieve and I was rewarded with a 4.50am wake up call from our resident crank-caller.
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