Walking toward Comerica Park with my children and father-in-law, we witnessed a not uncommon sight. Two cops had a pan handler against their car and were giving the "handler" a verbal lashing as they checked his pockets. The tone and the words exchanged were not pleasant but not vulgar either. I tried to engage both of my sons in conversation quickly as I shielded them from the scene that was no more than 5 feet from us as we passed. Neither boy reacted and frankly the scene quickly slipped my mind. After we entered the park, climbed up to the nose-bleeds and watched an inning or so, I noticed that Caleb seemed melancholy. I couldn't get him to talk about what he was feeling, but he climbed up in my lap. 20 minutes, a carousel ride and some foam paws later, Caleb's normal spunk returned. Driving home in the car, he piped up. "Daddy, do you know why I was sad in the game? It is because I don't want to go to jail like that man we saw as we were walking".
I tried to explain that good men who make good choices need not fear jail or the police. I am not sure what he understood of what I said, but within seconds, Caleb responded by saying he would like to be a police officer, and Nolan said "me too".
It is always interesting watching little boys trying to process man size information.
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