I was a little nervous this afternoon when I thought about what I might blog about tonight. I had tossed out all my cheesy ideas, and was getting comfortable with the notion that I might not blog about anything again this evening. And as my day progressed, I was really worried that nothing at all interesting would occur to us. Then, it happened:
You know that moment when you reach out to re-open the door from the outside, and realize that, by virtue of the handle's inability to turn, you've just locked yourself in the backyard and out of the house?
Oh, and it wasn't me. It was Brian who closed the door all the way, in angry response to Sydney's 15 minutes of continuous whining and prodding to get us outside to walk in the dirt with her. I was sitting in the patio chair, she was standing in the dirt, and Brian reached over to open the door to go back inside. ACK! Hey, guess what? It was locked! I, of course, had the brilliant idea: "Sydney, honey? Will you climb through the doggy door and open the door for Mommy and Daddy?" She climbed through fine ... and even turned the knob from the inside a whole lot ... but it was the little lock in the handle itself that had been inexplicably tripped. And no matter how I tried to explain it -- from my own awkward perch, head and one shoulder through the doggy door myself -- she couldn't make those little fingers understand what I meant her to do for us. Following that, there were several trips in and out for both her and the dogs, none of them quite understanding why Brian and I couldn't get inside, nor why Daddy was getting so upset. I was a couple inches from the handle myself, stretched as much as I could be from my uncomfortable position, and with the help of the barbecue tools holder (you use what's available in that situation, people. B and I were another 10 minutes from getting all MacGuyver ... or breaking a window), I was able to finally muscle the door handle to open. And the entire experience only took about 30 minutes!
To my credit, I giggled throughout the whole thing. I knew that, worst-case scenario, we would break a window pane, have to clean up the glass, and then have it replaced. Big deal. Brian, on the other hand, was getting increasingly irritable at the entire situation. Sydney was brilliant throughout, and did so great crawling back and forth through the door! I will though, have a HUGE bruise on my back and shoulder from where I moved against, shoved into, and rested all my torso on, the doggy door edges. I think I will take an Advil before I go to bed. If there's a bruise though, I'll have Brian take a picture of it for you all!
Advice for the next time you visit Kimmie's house: Be sure the handle lock is horizontal, my dears! Otherwise, you'll be trying to explain the door's locking mechanism to a toddler who really just wants to jerk the handle up and down!
p.s. This picture is of Sydney crawling through the doggy door at Mom's house. Who knew that this cute trick would become a helpful and potentially sanity-saving ability? We'll have to start training on the locks though...