Just a Fun Story designed to make you laugh...

*This story is designed for the light-hearted :-)
So today Mike and I went (and took the kids) to get our Police Clearance letters for our dossier. We tried going to a local police station, but they said we weren't in their jurisdiction. So, we had to go downtown. When we adopted Abby, we had to go downtown also...it was a piece of cake. The officer was so amazingly kind, talkative, friendly, and FAST. What a difference 3 years makes...
Our entire brood enters the Jefferson County Sheriff's Office. Picture a marble lobby with a glass window on the left for Records and one on the right for Pistol Permits. We head to the left to explain what we need. A sweet, sweet girl behind the counter says, "No problem, I will get someone right up." Whew, I am thinking, "Good, this will be easy again."...not so much. About 5 minutes later, a stern-looking, tall officer walks to the glass doors and says, "Yes." (not a question, a statement).
I say, "Yes, ma'm. We are here to get these Police Clearance Letters for an adoption.(showing her our old letters)."
She says, "If you have these, why do you need more?"
Great. I say, "Ma'm, these are 3 years old, not originals, and this is a different adoption."
Officer Sweetie Pie yanks the forms and our drivers' licenses out of my hand and storms away.
Mike and I look at each other. This could be bad. I say (almost in tears, simply because I have had many people be rude along this paperwork chase road), "Why can't anyone just be happy when doing their job?"
We sit the kids down to wait. Now remember...Records to the left, Pistol Permits to the right. In walks a man (I think he had a name tag that said, "Hello My Name is: Serial Killer."), he heads to the Pistol Permits window. I look at Mike...surely this isn't going to be easy for him. "Ma'm, I need to renew my concealed weapons permit," says Mr. Serial Killer. "Yes sir," she says, "that will be $10." And out walks Mr. Serial Killer with his renewed permit. Seriously?
Here comes Officer Sweetie Pie. She opens the glass door, and practically throws the documents and our licenses at us...so much so, that my license fell to the floor. I look at the documents - OH NO!!! She didn't notarize them - AAAAAAAHHHHHH. Deep breath.
"Ma'm," I say, "these aren't notarized."
Officer Sweetie Pie: "Were your others notarized?"
Me: "Yes Ma'm, see right here?"
Officer Sweetie Pie yanks the documents from me and storms away again. We all sit back down to wait again. Enter the leader of the local gang (you think I am making this up...), and he heads straight for...you got it, the Pistol Permits window. "Ma'm, I need to get a pistol permit," says Baby Face. "Sure thing, honey. Just fill this out, and that will be $10." AAAAAAAAHHHHH. No way. Baby Face walks out with his new permit.
Here comes Officer Sweetie Pie. This time, I sent Mike over - I couldn't handle it again. He walks over to the glass door..."Thank you." he says. Not a word from Officer Sweetie Pie...she just threw the documents at us and walked away.
We laughed so hard when we got in the car, that I thought we were all going to have accidents. I decided that I really, really need a concealed weapons permit. During our afternoon prayer time, my much wiser than Mommy child prayed, "Lord, please let those ladies at the police station come to know you, if they don't already know You."
Soooo thankful for my kiddos perception of experiences!! :-)