I rarely post twice in one day, but sometimes things happen and I think, “I must blog this right now before I forget.”
Tonight, Miss D. locked her bedroom door from the inside, and getting her out was a trial, one that will, I fear, continue into the coming days and come with a hefty price tag.
When we moved into this house shortly before Belly was born, Country-Fried Daddy mentioned that there was a push-button lock on the inside of Miss D.’s door, and if she ever pushed that button, we were screwed.
Then both of us completely forgot about the matter, until this evening.
Miss D. had a rough day. No nap, lots of sass. By bedtime, she was in rare form and refusing to go to sleep. Twenty minutes after CFD put her down, she strolled out of her room and into the living room. “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t realize y’all were having dinner.”
We put her back in bed.
She did it again.
Finally, CFD closed her door all the way, which we rarely do since it seems to have swollen over the years and doesn’t easily fit in its frame.
Miss D. came to the door again, jiggled the doorknob, and that was that. She had locked it, and she couldn’t turn the knob to let herself out. (Does anyone else have a three-year-old who can’t turn a door knob? )
CFD tried all the tricks he learned in the CIA Boy Scouts to try to pop the lock open. No luck.
Moments after I got on the phone with a locksmith, we heard a thump inside Miss D.’s room, followed by hysterical crying.
So CFD, at my urging, kicked the door in.
Miss D. saw us and said, “I don’t want to go to bed!”
Seriously? That’s all you have to say right now? You are sooo going to bed.
This would all have been frustrating (and yes, a bit funny) on its own, but the fact that a nearly identical experience happened only a year ago makes it all the more insane.
Below, I give you vintage CFM, before this blog was public, back when I was only sharing my humiliation with family and friends.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Don’t underestimate the strength of a frightened mother
We live in a relatively old house here, too (at least by the local standards). The doors have been the biggest challenge. The hallway bathroom latch doesn’t catch. Our bedroom door won’t fit inside its frame. Oh, and the doorknobs all over the house stick.
This morning, I walked into Miss D.’s closet to find her something to wear, and she shut the door behind me. This isn’t unusual. It is, however, unusual for her to turn the knob. Which she did. From the inside, I turned the knob to the right. It wouldn’t budge. I turned it to the left. It started to unscrew and threatened to fall off altogether. I was trapped.
It was 9:30 in the morning. I started counting hours until CFD came home from work. What kind of damage could Miss D. do alone in the house during 9 hours? Would she call her friends over to come party? Would they break into the apple juice and drink themselves silly? Would she draw on the cat? Put her babies in the oven?
I started to freak out a little bit. I don’t think I could legitimately call it a panic attack, but its the closest I’ve ever come to experiencing one.
So I kicked the door down.
Really.
I ruined the doorframe.
Anyone know a reliable handyman?
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Laughing my butt off! And with that…I am now a follower of your blog! Love it!
I am so sorry. I would offer for Nathan to give her doorknob lessons, but that would start a whole new set of problems.
You’re killing me. That is SO funny. I think I would’ve done the same thing. I’m a really small person but I don’t think twice about lugging, lifting, shoving or hauling things that are absurdly large in the name of motherhood. My brother calls me “freakishly strong.” Somehow, I don’t think it’s a compliment.
Give her 10 years and you’ll want that lock on the outside of the door!
My boys have done that several times. I now have the door locks on all the kids rooms turned to outside of their room. I’m sure anyone who comes into our house thinks we lock our kids in their rooms at night! But after climbing in through the window (2nd floor no less) one too many times, I’d had enough! (Oddly enough, the kids can unlock the windows but not the door! Explain that one!)
I have so many “Seriously? That’s all you have to say right now?” moments. Completely baffled. Shocked beyond belief. One also included a locked door, but luckily we didn’t have to kick it in. (It was our “powder room,” which is little more than a closet with a sink and toilet jammed in and if we kicked the door in it would have taken out our daughter.) I wish I could say it was the last time she locked herself in somewhere…
There is only one lock on one bedroom door in our house and that is Hubby’s and mine.
At some point I am sure my son will lock himself in and me out. He’s already done it at the house when I was on the front porch.
OK. Fine. I locked it by accident and had to climb through the window.
Kids. Fun, huh? My brother once locked my mom outside in the middle of winter.
…….and you thought you might forget this, y’all?
Only the good things are worth repeating!!
Right?
Should I come over and teach lock picking instructions? Girl picks things up when her dad’s a cop and she spent most of her childhood in a bad little neighborhood. I’m sure you can find lock picking instructions online and then practice. Depending how old the door handle is you can probably pop part of it off. You don’t know how many times I had to pick bedroom locks as a babysitter. For years I had a lockpicking set on my key ring.