This morning, my youngest son reported hearing sirens.

“I think someone’s house is being broken into,” he said. “Or maybe their car.”

I was cooking eggs, and still a bit bleary-eyed.

“Stick your head out the front door,” I answered. “See if you can figure out what direction it’s coming from.”

“Okay!”

A few minutes later, he was back inside. “I’m going around the fence to the houses behind us,” he said.

“Why?” his mom asked, coming out of the bedroom.

“Because that’s where the alarm is coming from. I’m pretty sure it’s the house just behind us and to the left.”

“Or we could call the police,” his mom said, glaring (for no reason at all) at me.

“You mean we’re not sending our youngest son to stop the burglars?” I asked in my most innocent of voices.

“Yeah,” my son said with a nervous laugh. “I think the police would be good.”