Seth's Little Tricks

One of the first things we did when we moved into our apartment was to turn around the lock on Katelin's and Seth's bedroom doorknob. The thing we did next was to stash a small screwdriver in the room so we could get out of the bedroom if, for some reason, we ever got locked in.

This morning, it's about ten o'clock and I am still running around in my pajamas. There are couch cushions and kitchen chairs spread out from the dining room to the living room (as an obstacle coarse). Cereal and milk and dishes are on the table. Lina has napped, but she woke early and so she is "playing" in her crib. I'm feeling frustrated, overwhelmed and kind of alone.

In the middle of the this Katelin makes a request, "Mom, could we get down some rice or beans to pour or play with?" Of course, I am imagining the obstacle course now covered in rice and beans and make a decision.

"Sorry, Katelin. Not until we clean this place up a little bit."

"Mom, you've got to clean this up. I'm not helping!" Katelin scolds me. I am cleaning it up so I ignore her.

"Mom if you don't clean this up, you're not going to be my Mom anymore." I don't respond.

Katelin sets the timer. Two minutes go by and the house is still not cleaned up. Katelin starts packing. "What are you doing, I ask?"

"I'm going away." She responds.

"Where?"

"I'm just going away." I have to admit that I am slightly amused. I wait a few minutes, then approach her.

"Katelin, you're not going anywhere," I say, pulling her close to me. She scowls hard.

And that is when Seth comes into the room. Galloping and smiling he starts playing with the doorknob and the lock, and before I can stop him, the door is shut. "Me locked door," Seth reports. I glance above the door to grab the screwdriver, only there is one problem. No screwdriver. I try the knob and then hit the door.

"Seth! We're locked in." Katelin has forgotten about her plan to leave and now she is on the bed crying.

I quickly see the solution, breaking through the screen, climbing out of the window and praying that one of our outside doors is unlocked. I try the patio door first, but no luck. It is dead-bolted shut, but then I see some hope through the window. Both locks on the front door are open. Trevor left them unlocked this morning when he came back home to pick up his computer. When I open the kids' bedroom door, I'm no longer the mean mom, but the hero of the day. I stop and think of how rarely that front door is left open. Someone is watching out for me; I'm really not alone after all.