June locked me out of the house Saturday night.
How it happened:
I threw on Jake’s size 11 muck boots and my jaunty condom chapeau (handy visual reference here)
and dashed outside in the cold to stock the fire in the outdoor wood furnace before June and I settled in to watch a few episodes of 30 Rock: Season 5 from Netflix that evening, aka, a wild Saturday night at chez Jessie!
I loaded up the wheelbarrow with logs and stacked them in the furnace. When I tried to open the screen door to the house, it was locked. I looked down on the other side of the door and there was June, staring up at me, thumb in mouth, her other hand gripping the handle from the inside.
“June, honey, unlock the door for mommy,” I said.
She grunted and toyed with the lock.
I knew she knew how to lock and unlock the screen door because I’d seen her do it a few times. But I didn’t think much of it because I was inside at the time. I did a quick mental scan of my house to determine if there was another way in. Just the previous evening, I’d gone around to all the windows to double check they were locked. I’d even checked the front door to make sure it too was bolted (since Jake’s been gone, I’ve been extra vigilant about security). I ran down to the woodshed where I’d seen an old screwdriver, thinking that perhaps I might pick the lock. Funny, a screwdriver doesn’t really fit into lock the width of a toothpick. I thought about driving over to Bill and Ellen’s, but my car keys were inside the house. I thought about hoofing it but Bill and Ellen live on top of a giant hill, or a small mountain, that, for someone huffing and puffing in the cold with an unattended toddler at home, would have felt like scaling Everest. I realized there was no way I was going to get inside my house without breaking a window. But how do you break a window with a toddler padding around inside in her bare feet?
June edged away from the door, and started walking toward the dryer located at the rear of the mudroom. Behind the dryer are three mousetraps.
“June, honey.” My voice went up a register. ”Open the door for mommy.”
She turned and gave me a half smile, thumb still in mouth.
The wily lock monster wearing a cream cheese mustache
“That’s it! Come back to the door. Open the door for mommy.” I was rapping on the door now, replicating a game we sometimes play wherein I knock on my bedroom door, she opens it and we hug.
She toddled back to the door and reached for the handle. I looked down and saw her fingers literally gripping the lock. ”That’s it, honey! Flip the switch! You can do it! I’ve seen you do it!”
This went on for 20 minutes. She came very close to releasing the lock several times, but ultimately she is still too young to comprehend what was being asked of her. She eventually plopped to her bottom and started to cry. The sight of my daughter crying alone at my feet broke my heart — I was so close yet so far — but it was far preferable to her fondling mousetraps.
I realized there was an extra set of keys in our old, beat up blue pick-up truck. June had become distracted by some toy, so I made a break for it, jumped into Old Blue and sped up the hill in overdrive — second gear — to Bill and Ellen’s house. Son-in-law Gerald didn’t bat an eyelash as he grabbed a few tools, as he, Bill and granddaughter Paige followed me back to my house. Within two minutes, Gerald had jimmied the door open with his tools without breaking or damaging the door one iota. I’ll admit, while he worked, I found myself wondering why he was so good at this particular task and why he owned such specialized tools.
June reached her arms for her hero. Gerald scooped her up, and we all went back to BIll and Ellen’s house where mommy helped herself to a giant glass of wine.
As I gulped sipped my wine, I couldn’t help but wonder — what if this had happened in the suburbs? Or the city? I would have had to call a locksmith. Who knows how much that would have cost and how long it would have taken him to arrive. Meanwhile, Gerald had picked the lock in less than two minutes without a scratch on the door. It occurred to me that the reason he knows how to do this stuff and owns the right tools is because in the country, you gotta be your own locksmith.
In other words, I’ll probably want to take Gerald’s advice and hide a key somewhere outside.
Thanks again, Gerald, Bill, Ellen, Yvonne and Paige for saving my butt yet again.
{ 17 comments… read them below or add one }
Thank goodness for good neighbors! When I used to babysit my niece and nephew, they’d lock me out too. Luckily we lived in an old farmhouse that was rediculously easy to break into. Now I live in the suburbs and they are teens. I have keys with me at ALL times!
I locked my 2year old in the car one time – on a 70 ish degree day in the sun. after that i made about 1/2 dozen extra car keys and stashed them various places. can’t do that with modern cars though.
houses in the county – the usual question is “where is your key hidden” when going to someone’s house and they won’t be there for some reason. as opposed “how long will i have to wait outside?”
Aaaaaargh! Every mom’s nightmare! How did you get your car doors opened?
Glad this turned out all right. You really need to think of a safe place to hide a key that no one would think of. We had never done this; I thought it was too risky. Last year it really started worrying my husband and he thought up a brilliant place and insisted we do it. Not long after, he was unexpectedly hospitalized and a winter storm was predicted, including temperatures low enough to freeze pipes. I was able to call a trusted neighbor man and get him to go see about the cat and drip some faucets for us.
My worst nightmare, being locked outside in the cold! I don’t have a hidden key as I have a keypad on the garage door, type in the code and voila, you’re in. My (company-issued) car has keypad entry as well and I love it, although I never would have paid for that option! In fact, I’ve become so enamored of not carrying keys anymore (entering and exiting house via garage, and hiding keys in the car, locked in) that I plan to replace my house door locks with the new battery-powered keypad type. They still have a key backup, in case of malfunction.
Definitely hide a key somewhere. You never know when you’ll need it, or need to tell someone else where it is. Oh, and those extra keys in the truck – any chance a house key was on that ring?
While it was great that the spare keys were in the truck this time, now that you have told the world that you hid them there you can’t do it anymore. To all of the millions of things parents need to remember you now need to add this one: never leave the house without a set of keys. Glad everything worked out!
You’re so right, didn’t even think of that. Though if you saw this particular truck, you wouldn’t want it. At 250,000K miles, Old Blue is on her last legs.
We live in a suburban neighborhood with a common area that has a playground and pool. One day, heading home from the pool, with kids in tow, my four year old ran ahead of us towards home. He ran home and locked all the doors, leaving me and the baby outside. I went to a neighbors for help. the neighbor man tried to get in , all windows and doors were locked tight.
I called the local dispatch number for police/fire and they dispatched a fire truck. Yes, lights on, horn blaring, neighbors watching. A fireman got in in no time with some tool they use to pry the door and doorframe open only to tell me no child was found in the house.
One look in the basement and there was my son, laying on the couch, watching cartoons, eating cereal from the box. He admitted he locked me out so he could snack and watch TV.
I added keys to my pool stuff from that day forward. ( I know, but I live in small time suburbs with little/no crime.)
If your 4-yr old locked you out so he could eat snacks and watch TV, just think what he’ll will be doing when he’s 15!
I live in a tiny town where the police still carry a tool and will help a person if they lock their keys in the car, no charge. In the larger cities near here, the police can’t do that anymore. Locksmiths made a fuss and said it cut into their business. You KNOW they still have the tools in case a baby is locked in or something, they have just been forbidden to help in other cases.
What a cute story, though i’m sure your nerves were a mess. Like Caroline Ingalls said, “All’s well that ends well.”
I remember when my oldest daughter was around June’s age and did that to my car… while it was still running. Scary stuff!!! Glad everyone is safe and sound, and you have a spare key hidden
Do you have cell reception where you live? Taking a phone with you when you go outside isn’t a bad idea either (remembering it is the problem!). I’ve tried to convince my mom of this after she fell on the ice last winter (going out to get firewood) and severely injured her back while home alone in Chiniak, AK (36 miles of windy, icy road away from the nearest ambulance). She said she laid on the ground for at least 20 or 30 min before she was able to crawl inside and get to the phone and call 911. I can’t even imagine what could have happened if she hadn’t eventually been able to get inside. Aside from moving into town when my dad is up north working in the oil fields in the winter (which she adamantly refuses to do), I think carry the phone with her is the next best thing!
Next time, cell phone will be in pocket!
My worst lock experiecnes were my very own fault. I would forget to replace the house key in my backpack after getting home from school. The next day I would have to try and break in, or flag down a neighbor, little brother in tow. I still lose my keys on a regular basis.
I got a job two years ago that would require a little home alone time for my monsters. I wanted to prevent as much drama and frantic phone calls as possible, so we installed a lock box in the front door frame. It’s secured in with 3 inch screws, and has a four number keycode. Now family, friendly dog sitters, and the kids are able to get in, no problem. You could install one that’s in a less visible position if you’re worried about others having access. My security conscious husband is happy to have ours front and center. Even if someone were to pry it off the door frame, the keys are still inside the lock box. It wasn’t very expensive either.
Wow, I remember when my youngest was about 2, I went into the back yard (a totally enclosed backyard — surrounded by brick walls built in 1890) via the french doors. The only way out was through the house.
The baby woke up from his nap, and pulled the security bar down blocking me from opening the door to get in. I couldn’t get him to understand that he needed to reach down and pull the dowel out of the runner space so I could push the door open.
I stood there repeating myself over and over while he wept and cried Mama.
It was heartbreaking. Eventually he figured it out and I got in.
God, I still remember how awful I felt…He’s seventeen now and doesn’t remember any of it.