Ah kids. You know I love 'em. Always have. They're why I was *the* best baby-sitter back in the day and why I'd have six or seven if only the hubs green-lighted the idea.
But there are moments when I think I'm not going to make it with my sanity completely intact. Most days have them and luckily for me I'm able to laugh about them later with the hubs. But today!! Gahh!! Me and the kiddies had a few errands to run. Nothing major, just here and there's. We were out for a few hours and along the way stopped and met the hubs for lunch where my oldest inhaled a fruit punch juice box with his meal (I *swear* we ordered apple juice, but the straw was already in by the time I realized their mistake.). Anyway, fruit punch has a way of climbing on top of him and turning him into a whirlwind of excited naughtiness...today was no exception.
Fast forward a few hours to my near-call-the-police moment. We got home and he raced all the way up the stairs to the front door like he always does. I took a few moments to collect bags, baby, purse, etc and met him at the top. He has this goofy little thing he likes to do where he squeezes in between the front doors and pretends to hide (even though the outer door is mostly glass and therefore the worst hiding spot ever). When I make it to the top of the stairs and see him and all his cuteness standing in between the two front doors I did what I always do when we play this getting-home game: first, my obligatory and goofy "Where's Sam?" (just like always) before finding him by announcing loudly, "Oh THERE he is!!" (just like always) and whipping open the door while laughing...only this time he actually locked the front door. Locked himself in between both front doors. Locked me and Max out in the freezing cold. And I don't have a key to the front door because it's not that kind of door. And oh my the thoughts and panic that ran through my head! I immediately had visions of fire trucks and broken windows and crying, freezing cold babies! Aye! But I calmly (okay, maybe more firmly and loudly) asked him to unlock the door. He giggled (rather maniacally I might add) and looked at me. I asked him again. Same response. Okay, I'm seriously hearing the sirens at this point. Then I yelled. At which point he obliged, asking me, "Mommy? Why is the door locked?" When we got inside, we had yet another "Doors Are Not Toys" discussion and then it was nap time. End of story. Mommy was done. And so was Sam, since he slept for three hours.
Fast forward a few hours to my near-call-the-police moment. We got home and he raced all the way up the stairs to the front door like he always does. I took a few moments to collect bags, baby, purse, etc and met him at the top. He has this goofy little thing he likes to do where he squeezes in between the front doors and pretends to hide (even though the outer door is mostly glass and therefore the worst hiding spot ever). When I make it to the top of the stairs and see him and all his cuteness standing in between the two front doors I did what I always do when we play this getting-home game: first, my obligatory and goofy "Where's Sam?" (just like always) before finding him by announcing loudly, "Oh THERE he is!!" (just like always) and whipping open the door while laughing...only this time he actually locked the front door. Locked himself in between both front doors. Locked me and Max out in the freezing cold. And I don't have a key to the front door because it's not that kind of door. And oh my the thoughts and panic that ran through my head! I immediately had visions of fire trucks and broken windows and crying, freezing cold babies! Aye! But I calmly (okay, maybe more firmly and loudly) asked him to unlock the door. He giggled (rather maniacally I might add) and looked at me. I asked him again. Same response. Okay, I'm seriously hearing the sirens at this point. Then I yelled. At which point he obliged, asking me, "Mommy? Why is the door locked?" When we got inside, we had yet another "Doors Are Not Toys" discussion and then it was nap time. End of story. Mommy was done. And so was Sam, since he slept for three hours.
My sweet baby boy is turning into quite the big boy with ideas and plots all his own. I need to keep him little and sweet for as long as possible! No fruit punch until college.
And I will now have a key to the back door on me at all times.
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