The Convention was officially over, we’d all been out to eat and had returned (some of us sooner than others—but that’s another story entirely!) to the motel. Emilee and I let our kids run wild in the smaller conference room while we did some cleaning in the large one. It was starting to get late, so we went back to our rooms and put the kids down for the night. It had been a very long, tiring week of Camp and Convention and the kids were shot. Or so we thought. We then returned to the conference center to continue getting things cleaned and packed up.

I really have no recollection of how long my children had been in bed when word reached me, but I know they should have been long asleep by then. Somebody (I can’t even remember who) showed up in the conference room and informed me that my children were screaming. “What?!” I said. Apparently somebody had already snatched a room key from James to rescue the hysteric little imps because when I came flying through the hallway (I was in a hurry to renew some sense of calm and control to the south wing of the Howard Johnson) there was already a nice little cluster of church folk clogging up the area, many of them looking confused, the others sporting a snide “Ha! The Horne’s kids are being brats” looking sort of smirk. It was then that I noticed my boys in the hallway, bringing a whole new sense of urgency to the situation. Not only had my children been screaming in the motel room, they had been screaming in the hallway of the motel?! (That wasn't actually the case, but upon seeing them there I just assumed they had left the security of the room to do their screaming.) I heard somebody say, “See, there’s your Mom. It’s all okay now—you’re not in trouble.” Yeah, right!!!

I rounded up my three little rioters and herded them into the room and shut the door behind us to try to discover first hand what had happened. You’re never going to believe what they told me. Katie just kept saying, “It wasn’t me, Mom! It wasn’t me!” Both boys were crying hysterically, tears just pouring down their faces. Especially Joe. He was sobbing so hard I could barely make out what he said, but it was something like this: “Sam (sob, heave, sob, sob) changed the (sob, sob) clock and (heave, sob, heave, sob, heave) the (sob, sob) cops (sob, sob, sob) are gonna (sob) come (sob) and (sob) get (sob) us!!!! (SOB, SOB, SOB, HEAVE, HEAVE, SOB, SOB…)” Could you make that out? It took me a few minutes, but when I finally figured out what he was saying I couldn’t believe my ears. Sam had been fooling around with the motel alarm clock and had reset the time, and the kids were convinced that the cops were on their way to come and get all three of them and haul them off to jail!!! I was in shock. This is why my children had been screaming bloody murder in the motel room. I was speechless. The kids were still bawling and I needed to regain some control so I assured them that the cops were not coming… yet. “And the cops are not going to come… unless I get carried away!!!” I told them that they were not in trouble for changing the clock. They were, however, in H-UGE trouble for screaming in the motel!!! Really, the scare was enough that they needed very little discipline. They were shook up enough that I think they learned their lesson before good ole’ Mom ever even showed up.

Sister Becky Flores had been one of the first on the scene when the person with the key (who was it, anyway?) opened the door to check on why the otherwise perfect Horne children (ha!) were now screeching and wailing inside. She said that Joe and Sam were both just bawling and everybody kept telling them to calm down and that everything was going to be okay, but the two of them just kept howling, "We're in trou-(sob)-ou-(sob)-ou-(sob)-ouble!!!" Ha! Tears just a-pourin'. She's not a cruel sort of person or the kind to take pleasure in little kids being scared out of their wits, but even Sister Becky couldn't tell the story without laughing! I'm sure it was something to behold!!! Ha!

One part of the story I left out. When word reached me about the hysteria coming from our motel room, Jon said in his best taunting voice: “Ah! Ha! Your kids are screaming in the motel! Ha! Ha!” —For real! (He said it just like a little kid would say, “Ha! Your team lost and mine won!!! Neener, neener, neener!" Except Jon wouldn't be caught dead using the word "neener.") As I was running toward the hallway I shot back, “Yeah?! Well, your kid bit another kid in the face last week!!!” This left Dustin laughing in the corner and making some snide remark about who the “kids” were. Ah yes—Dustin! That reminds me of my favorite part of the story!

Cathy was telling me that she walked in the building and heard children screaming from down the hallway. She said—and I quote—“My first instinct was that it sounded like the Horne kids. But then I thought, ‘Noooooooo, it’s got to be the Hays’ kids.’ But…” HA! I made sure to relate the conversation to the group of people in the conference center who were waiting to hear what all the ruckus had been about. Dustin didn’t appreciate Cathy’s input very much. “Hey, wait a minute! What did she mean by that?!” Ha! It was so great!!!

Anyway, there you have it. A story to brighten your day. I know a few of us who could really use a good laugh today. Hope this helps. :-)

--Is anybody else having trouble putting a title on their posts?! I haven't been able to do it the past two times. I can't "click" in the title box. What's the deal???