It's not date night unless somebody calls the cops

This weekend was our 18th anniversary (18 years is the Garnet anniversary--we looked it up. Apparently 11 years is Steel, and if you make it past that you start getting better symbols to work with.) We did the usual thing, got a sitter, went to see a movie, ate dinner.

Except.

Except my mom served as our babysitter. There are distinct differences in our lifestyle and hers, including the fact that we recycle, we have central heat and air, our TVs are controlled by Tivos, we have high speed internet, we live on a cul-de-sac with unique parking implications, and so on. Most of the time the differences in our lifestyles only end up in a diaper in the recycle bin or our neighbor asking us if we'd please move the extra car so he can back out of his driveway. But Saturday, the crazy good luck streak we were unaware we were in, flat ran out.

We left the boys with mom and went to eat at C.C.'s City Broiler. Midway though dinner, Mom called Monte, and after she asked a few questions, he asked to speak to Mason. He then explained to Mason how to put the DVD in the Tivo and watch it. Thinking "crisis averted" we finished our meal and went to see Star Trek. I had already seen it, so in the middle I decided to go to the bathroom. I told Monte that the part coming up was a big plot point, and many things would be explained, and that he should sit tight until I got back.

I came back from the bathroom and found him in the hallway talking on his cell phone. Puzzled, I said "you were supposed to stay in there. You're missing the plot . . . " He told me to "shhhh" and said "I'm on the phone with the Brinks Home Security people." Now, I can't imagine why he's on the phone with Brinks, since we didn't set the alarm before we left, what with four people running in and out of the place, unless maybe something caught fire. So I stand there freaking out, while he finishes his call, and he said "your mom hit the burglar alarm."

We have been using our attic fan because the days haven't been all that hot yet. Before we left on our date I turned on the air conditioning, but I guess it wasn't doing its job, because mom decided she was warm. She called dad, and told him she was warm, and he said "well, just hit the blue button." There were three things vitally wrong with his advice. One, our thermostat is upstairs between the bedrooms, and she was downstairs next to the front door. Two, we have a touch screen thermostat. No blue button. No buttons at all. Three, she had told him she wasn't wearing her glasses and she couldn't read the buttons she was pressing, so she missed the fact that the blue button she was hitting was actually a picture of a blue police shield and the keypad she was hitting it on was marked "Brinks Home Security."

The good news is, if you have a security alarm installed by Brinks, they do call each and every number in an effort to get hold of you, the cops do come right away and it all works just like its supposed to. The bad news is, we have to find a new babysitter option before our neighborhood association writes us a strongly worded letter about our excessive use of law enforcement.