Just because I am a wife, mother and homemaker, don’t assume that I haven’t tiptoed on the wild side of life. I have.
I have smuggled cokes and candy into the movie theater in my purse at least a dozen times. The scissors that I accidentally took from my daughter’s school . . . the ones labeled PROPERTY OF THE KINDERGARTEN CLASS with a black permanent marker, . . . I didn’t take those back.

And. . .

About 13 years ago, in McCracken County, Kentucky, there was a warrant issued for my arrest.

The Crime: I was caught driving 15 miles over the speed limit.

The Appeal: I stuffed the box of dry cereal that I had been eating for breakfast under the seat and wiped my mouth with our infant daughter’s spit-up rag. It was the only faux napkin available other than the used tissue on the floor and the ketchup-covered Burger King bag in the back seat. Then, I appealed for leniency with the best smile and slight eyebrow flirt that I could muster after 20 years of marriage.

The Denial: Evidently, the police officer wasn’t impressed with my grinning grimace or the combined odor of Coco Puffs and baby puke on my breath because he handed me a ticket and a three figure fine.

What My Lawyer Said: Actually, I can’t tell you what my husband, the lawyer, said without being censored. But, his last words were, “Don’t pay the fine. I’ll take care of it.” A couple of weeks later, a warrant was issued for my arrest for failure to appear in court to pay that fine.

My Response: I never considered suing my lawyer since that would come back to bite me in the bank account. I did, however, question his competence, slander his character and deny a few of his basic marital rights for the rest of the month.

But then, I began to see possibilities in the situation.

What would happen if I welcomed the deputy into my home, took the arrest warrant from his hands and willingly went to jail? I would either have a little quiet time to myself or the opportunity to make some interesting, new friends. Of course, I would have to insist that the policeman stay and take care of my kids, but he did agree to hazardous duty when he pinned on his badge.

In the end, I was a little disappointed when my husband got the warrant dismissed. A part of me was looking forward to an encounter with the police. I had decided that I would not remain silent.

“Hello, deputy. I’m ready to go but you’ll be needing to stay here with my children.

Load all the kids in my car and take #1 out for practice driving time. Make #2 do her bathroom chores. When she finishes, stick your head in the toilet to make sure she cleaned under the rim. Number 3 has a model of the solar system due tomorrow. Do not, under any circumstances, let him help with the project but make it look like fourth grade work. Make two dozen clown-face cupcakes for #4 to take to school in the morning. And #5 is sitting in a diaper that is so wet, she is treading water.

I’ll be needing to borrow the keys to the squad car so I can drive myself to jail. Could you handcuff me so I won’t be tempted to stop and pick up stray toys on the way out?

And by the way, I’ll be running the siren in a boisterous accompaniment to the Hallelujah Chorus I’ll be singing as I pull out of the driveway.”