At Least It Wasn't 911

Evan loves the phone. He loves to talk on it, he likes to play with it and he loves to push the buttons on it. Tonight as I was cooking dinner, I heard him pushing buttons on the phone in my bedroom. A few seconds later he was coming down the hall as I was heading into the bedroom to make sure he hadn't actually called anyone. I picked him up, at which point, he hit me. My sweet little boy hit me. Then he hit me again.

As I was marching him into his room, I let out a long string of "Why did you do that...we don't hit...you sit here until you can apologize." He came out once before he was ready to apologize, so I marched him back in. My stern mommy voice was in full force. The lecture continued.

About five minutes later, I hear a busy signal from the phone. THE PHONE! I forgot about the phone. I picked it up. The name of one of my clients was up on the screen. Oh no! Right before the "incident," Evan had scrolled through caller ID, turned the phone on and called the number. I knew it wasn't the direct line for the person I work with, and I was hoping it was one of those lines that doesn't actually have a voicemail associated with it. It was well after 5:00, so I dialed the number. Voicemail answered. Of course.

That means tomorrow, the receptionist at my client will get a voicemail (which from my best guess is approximately seven minutes long) with my mommy lecture. I replayed my lecture in my mind, trying to remember if I used Evan's name or not. I am sure I did because any mommy lecture like that has to include the child's first and last name, so there is no chance I can remain anonymous. How embarrassing! All I can think is at least it wasn't 911!