In trouble

Kivi and I were planting the garden. Kivi was holding the seed packets, and had been waiting patiently, (or what qualifies as patiently for a 3-year-old), for what must have seemed an eternity, while I used the shovel to make hills for the cucumber and zucchini and a furrow for the pepper seeds.
"Are you done yet, Bubbie?" he asked me every 30 seconds or so. "Is it time to plant the seeds?"
"Almost," I answered each time. "Just a few more minutes."
I temporarly distracted him by having him help pat the dirt into hills, but he was REALLY itching to tear open those little paper packets. I kept watching him out of the corner of my eye, knowing that if he ripped open the packets, the seeds would spill out, and since it was a breezy day, they'd probably fly all over the place and we'd be crawling under the deck to retrieve them and chasing them all over the back yard.
I told him, "Don't open it yet, or we'll be in trouble!"
Kivi looked at me with a horrified expression on his face. "Will the POLICE come?"