So Sarge went to the middle child's class the other day in his full uniform to go talk to the kids about being a police officer. Which is always great for me, because it's so darn funny to watch my husband be put on the spot.
Most of the kids in the class know me, especially the ones she was in Kindergarten with. One of these kids, who's just adorable, raises his hand when things were opened up for questions.
He asked, "[the middle child]'s Mom married YOU???" He seemed flabbergasted.
And then a sweet little girl comes up to me and informs me, "You are so lucky because you have such a cool husband." Um, yeah. Sure.
And then there were the great comments about one time when they called 911 and one time when Mommy got pulled over (that was my kid, but there's no need to go there, right?) and ALL the questions about the gun. So many. They all want to know if he's shot anyone. And if it has batteries. And about the blood and guts and gore. And they desperately want him to take it out and let them look. Which he won't. And his handcuffs, and why he keeps purple balloons in his back pouch on his belt.
I think that's the greatest thing about having a husband who's a police officer. It almost makes up for working on Christmas and Thanksgiving and all night long. Almost.