My husband works at the police station now as a dispatcher.  Not only does he have a uniform, but also a heavy, shiny, silver badge.  How cool is that?  For a guy who looks hot in an Applebee’s servers outfit, it’s unnecessary, but still.  Not only that, but he gets the inside scoop on all the lingo… the 10-4’s, 10-20’s, and the Roger Wilco’s… oh wait, that’s the armed forces.

I think I’m going to have to give him a nickname.  Maybe Batman.  Or some equivalent…  not that there is an equivalent to that particular superhero.  (If you wish to debate the superiority of Batman vs. any other super hero, please call me.  I will win. Batman is the coolest of all superheroes.)

Comic books aside (Yes, the same mind that got all caught up in Jane Austin also checked out the comic book compendium for Batman several times.  I have no shame.)

He’s out there helping keep the world safe FOR humanity from drunks and speeding cars and firecrackers that go off after midnight while I’m here trying to keep our home safe FROM the humanity that lives in it. 

Interesting how a police force and a parent are similar.

Here are the rules.
Here are the consequences.
Here am I to lay the smack down.

Matt’s practiced at laying the smack down at home, but he doesn’t really have to do the enforcing on the job… at least not except for via phone which makes me happy.  He just has to listen to complaints/concerns and route others in the right direction to help those with complaints.  Sounds like the job he does for me every day. 

He is SO going to excel at this job.