Pee on the Bed, Cops at the Door

After a miserable weekend of telling Tiernan that he couldn’t go outside and play in the rain, today was the day that all the frustration of the weekend would vent.
There is a few moments during bath-time that everything is vulnerable. The time between getting the diaper off and getting the boy into the tub. HINT: Make that time as short as possible. Because during that time much is in danger. Your bed, your son’s bed, the dog and basically the rest of your evening.
This evening my little sprinkler decided to use that time, while Daddy tried to grab a towel, to play firehose and put out a blaze on his bed. He stood on the far side of his bed and peed, he peed on the pillow on the floor, he stood there grinning from ear to ear -- smiling like a politician peeing on his bed. Potty training is going sooooo well.
Well, I screamed at him. Not great parenting - but I yelled at him. I wanted to tie his pee-pee in a knot, but I was never that good at knots. I could have never been a sailor, I can’t even get my shoes, or my son’s to stay tied. But I yelled at him. He cried. I cried, too.
Because, now I have give both him and is bedding a bath.
Later, after I calmed down and he calmed down, after the bath and long talk about why urine and down pillows don’t mix and the dangers that any further attempts at pretending to be a beer tap would hold, we were watching the hockey game and Tiernan was puttering around being restless chasing the dog from couch to couch. Eventually, he grabs the telephone and starts pressing buttons and he puts the phone to ear and says, “Hiyo, Helyo” the way he does. Now, my wife and I don’t think he’s actually talking anybody because, although he was pressing buttons he wasn’t pressing enough buttons to make a call. Little did we know.
Ok, quick back story. One afternoon four months ago, my wife was watching old episodes of COPS on CourtTV one cold winter day, with Tiernan. I was upstairs doing Daddy things -- bills, or repairs or something. I come down stairs and Tiernan drops to ground in front of me and puts his hands behind his back. Just like the he saw the “Bad Boys” do on COPS. This is all voluntary. Nobody taught him or told him to do this. To this day, he will get on the ground with his hands behind his back when so ordered. Whenever we see an police car, he sings “Bad Boys, Bad Boys. Whatch gon do.”
Jump back to this evening. After we took the phone away from him he walked up to my wife and said “Cops. Bad Boys, Bad Boys.” We just looked at him and said no COPS isn’t on, we’re watching hockey. And he goes about his toddler business and we turn our attention to Stanley Cup hockey.
At 8:37 p.m. the doorbell rings. He pressed three buttons. He pressed 9-1-1. There is a policeman standing at the door. I am thinking that the neighbors heard me yelling at him for the pee incident and called the cops on me.
The officer says, “Did someone call 9-1-1?”
I said, “Nnnnoooo --- Yes. I think my son was playing with the phone before.” As I say this. Tiernan comes up and walks up the officer and says, “Hi. Hi. Hi.”
The officer says, “Ok, Yeah, dispatch said it sounded like a little kid. No problem. Everything’s OK?”
I said, “Yeah. I am going to have a talk with my little friend, but things are good.” And the nice officer leaves.