Amy
As we were hauling food outside for our weekend cookout, a police car pulled in. My sister and her two kids were already there, and my niece Dakota walked right up to the car to talk to the deputy, completely oblivious to stranger danger. I rushed over to the door, looked out, concerned about the situation, and noticed that the officer was Deputy Marshall. I wondered what he could want, perhaps some issue with animal abuse in the area.
“Dakota, why are you talking to a stranger?” I called out, carrying a covered dish.
“He’s not a stranger, Mom. He’s a cop, and they are nice,” Dakota replied, her hands on her hips.
“Yeah, Mom, cops are nice,” Deputy Marshall said, getting out of the car.
I scowled at him. “You’re not helping.”
Deputy Marshall chuckled at the exchange, but I cou
