Unwanted visitors!

As Husband guest-posted recently, something always happens when he is away for work.
Sometimes, it's myself or the kids getting sick. Another time, I broke my thumb and dislocated a finger. More recently, we sold our house!
On this occasion, some @#$% losers decided to break into our home in Auckland.
It's okay. We're fine.
This place is like Fort Knox once it's locked up - and those who know me, know I am anal about always keeping the doors locked.
But still it really shook up Miss 6 - okay, and me!
I'd put the kids to bed - Mr 8 upstairs, Miss 6 downstairs, and myself on the middle floor, watching telly, checking out Facebook updates, and making sure neither of them were sneaking out of their rooms.
Mr 8 - thankfully - was asleep, when Miss 6 came up and told me someone was trying to get in and yelling about drugs and alcohol.
"Don't be silly," I began, thinking she'd had a bad dream or was wanting some extra Mummy time.
But then I looked into those wide, frightened eyes and realised she was serious.
Sure enough, as I walked downstairs, the door handle was moving wildly, and someone was thumping on the door. (We don't have a doorbell and if you are upstairs with tv/music/cooking blaring, you can't hear when someone is at the door).
They were opening the letterbox and shouting things like: "Let us in! Come on, we've got the drugs, everything you want."
My immediate reaction was to tell them to bug off. In slightly ruder language.
They just laughed and continued yelling and thumping.
I told them I would call the cops, and they continued opening the letterbox and shouting. And mocked me. "She's calling the cops .... hahahaha!" So I did.
While I was on the phone, of course the would-be visitors scampered off. Real big men they were to scare a mum and six-year-old, who I must say, was being very brave.
Anyway, 111 (it's 111 here, not 000 or 911 or 999), were great. I told them the thugs had left, and expected that would be the end of it.
I crawled into bed to comfort Miss 6 who was now sobbing quietly. She had almost gone to sleep when the thumping on the door resumed.
With a sinking heart, I went downstairs and asked who was there.
"Police!" came a manly voice.
"Is it really?" I asked, peering through the curtains to see a police car right outside.
But it really was.
Despite the danger passing, two officers had come by to investigate the call. I estimate it was within about 20 minutes of my initial phone call to 111.
How awesome was that?
They were kind, polite, and thorough. They checked that everyone in the household was safe, and reassured Miss 6 that everything was okay.
They promised they would hang around for a while and patrol the area.
That they could even take the time to respond - and quickly - to my phone call was wonderful. That they could immediately calm a nervous six-year-old - okay and her Mum - was also nice.
To know they would keep an eye on the place? Awesome.
Some of my friends are cops, and I know just who and what they have to deal with sometimes.
It was a reminder of how lucky we are as a community to have brave guys and girls looking out for us like this.
For the record? We are all okay, nothing stolen or damaged.
And for that, I know we are lucky!
Miss 6 was still teary this morning, but she's also proud of how brave she was. Mr 8, I think, is annoyed he missed out on all the excitement. (Apparently, he would have kicked their butts).
The building manager managed to find some footage of the losers on the security camera, and we are pretty sure they were either high or drunk - or both - and had mistaken our door for someone else's.
It's reassuring to know it was probably a case of mistaken identity that brought them to our door.
But rest assured, tonight I will be locking all doors and checking them twice - and giving the kids an extra kiss as well!