drool-dialing

You know your baby has officially entered toddlerhood when you get a call from an emergency dispatcher.

I was hurriedly getting things together to head out the door for an appointment today. My one-year-old was tearing his shoes and socks off as quickly as I could screw them back on his pudgy little piggies. I was vaguely aware that he had grabbed something off the couch and was relieved he had found a distraction from his flying Robeez routine.

Just as I had gotten my freshly restocked diaper bag over my shoulder, the phone rang. The ring came from the direction of my little guy who, in retrospect, looked quite pleased with himself. I took the drool-covered receiver from him and reluctantly put it to my ear. “Hello?”

“This is the 9-1-1 dispatching office. We just received a call from this number. What is your emergency?”

Since I was speechless, the caller would have been greeted with utter silence had it not been for the blood-curdling scream. Of course, my little guy was furious because I had taken the phone away from him!

“Hello. What is your emergency?”

“I’m sorry. My one-year-old must have dialed 9-1-1! Of all the possible number combinations…”

“Ma’am, we need to verify your phone number.”

Again, silence on my part and screaming from my son. I was so flustered, I couldn’t remember my own phone number! This did not help matters.

At this point, I really began to panic that they were going to send the police and I would miss my appointment altogether. I was transferred to another local dispatcher and, ultimately, was able to compose myself enough to explain that they had been drool-dialed by my toddler. The dispatcher finally “released me” as a false alarm.

I put my son’s shoes and socks on … again … and we squeaked into our appointment five minutes late.

I just hope that 9-1-1 tape never resurfaces!