This summer we spent time on a remote Canadian island, where clearly there was no urgent need for police protection.

I like the mounted police image right over the gas tank. Is it a comedic allusion to the days of horse power?

I think about my mothering as of late. My routine end-of-the-day litany of

homework?
dinner?
dishes?
shower?
laundry?

I think these promptings are imprinting basic responsibility upon my ten-year old. Fostering time-management skills to the point, that soon, I won’t need to speak reminders, these tasks will just be getting done.

But for now, it feels like I’m just policing, and I’ve been assigned the role of ‘bad cop.’

There’s a beginning of the day litany on this cop’s beat, too, which is scheduled to begin in exactly thirteen minutes. I made a written check list for these, just to save my voice.

But this morning, I want to cool the heat. I’d like a pause on my patrol. I wouldn’t mind at all just being up on blocks.