Dead Bolts and Lively Locks

Friday morning, Teeny and I head out to the car bright and early to go to daycare and work. For economic reasons, I'm still driving my sporty little two-door despite now having to cram a 29 pound toddler in the back. Anyway, in order to get him in the car, I first unlock the passenger door, throw my purse, keys and assorted crap in the passenger seat, and then climb into the back seat to get Teeny situated. I strap him in, climb out of the back seat on the passenger side and slam the door. I swear that I heard the locks click as soon as I did that, though it's entirely possible that I bumped the lock switch on the way in. Regardless of how it happened, I locked my baby in the car on a 28 degree day. I very intelligently keep my spare key in my purse, which was sprawled on the passenger seat next to my regular keys. Ugh.

So, I run back to the house and start ringing the doorbell and the phone at the same time to wake S. to let me back in (I am, of course, locked out). I call the first locksmith I can find in the phone book on my side of town and go back out to stand by the car and keep Teeny company. He's just looking at me like I'm nuts. First I hear him say, "Mama open?" I try to explain in terms a 20 month old can understand that Mama can't open the door right now. Then, tragedy strikes and he drops his sippy cup. "Cup please?" Sorry, honey, Mama can't get to your cup right now. Many tears follow. He starts messing with his hat, and I'm thinking, "please, don't take your hat off - you'll get hypothermia!" I start assessing him for signs of hypothermia. I wonder at what point do I smash the window to get him out? He looks fine and is still pink instead of blue, which I take to be a good sign.

After what felt like forever, but was really only 45 minutes or so, the locksmith arrives and gets me into my car. The best part about this time of year is that even when it's cold out, the sun is at a good angle to warm up the inside of the car. Teeny is perfectly fine and warm. Whew.

Flash forward three days to today, Monday. Teeny shuts our upstairs door on me and LOCKS IT. What is it with me and him and locks? S. isn't home, and I don't know how to pick locks. So I try to explain through the door, once again in terms that a 20 month old can understand, how to turn the lock on the doorknob. After all he locked it, he should be able to unlock it, right? This time Teeny panics because he can't see me. I was amazingly calm - like, of course this happened. This is totally something that would happen to me. I start trying to jimmy the lock with a butter knife, but can't open it. I become distracted by desperate screams of, "Ahhhh MaaaMaaa! Ahhhhh MaaaMaaa!" Thankfully, I reach S. on his cell, and though he thinks all of the spare house keys are in his CAR of all places, there might be one in the desk drawer downstairs. Miracle of miracles, there is a spare key and it's the right one. Mama to the rescue! Teeny collapses onto me in heap of red swollen eyes and tear stained cheeks and just starts sucking his thumb. He panicked again when I put him to bed - I think he's a little traumatized this time.

What is it with me and locks???? How does this happen to someone twice in three days!? Anyway, the whole thing is just so crazy that I had to share. Why didn't I go to locksmith school? I could get totally rich off of people like me!