Locked Out

It was a gloomy August morning. We were in southern Pennsylvania, and James had been begging for "outside" from the moment he got up. I was moving in slow motion, and every time I peeked out the windows it looked overcast and drizzly. J and her mother were gone shopping, and her father was on the way out the door.

"Gwo wa da moo ne DWO-luh."

"Does that mean that you want to go for a walk in the stroller?"

He nodded.

I looked out the window again. The front yard had a dark and soaked look, but there wasn't any rain actively falling either.

"James, we'll take a short walk. We'll just go around the block."

He nodded excitedly and began to do his half-skip over to the garage door.

I was still practically in my pajamas--glasses on, athletic shorts and a t-shirt. I slid on flip-flops and looked around for my keys. I hadn't slept well the night before, and morning coffee had done little to cure me of a glum headache. Oh yes, my keys were upstairs.

My father-in-law was slipping his shoes on, and James was drumming excitedly on the inside garage door.

"Dad, do you mind if I leave the inside garage door unlocked while I take James for a walk?"

He didn't mind, so long as we kept the outside overhead garage door closed. He gave me a code to open the overhead when we returned, and I unloaded the stroller from the back of our car.

I grabbed my tall umbrella and pushed James down the street. He was also in a t-shirt and shorts, and I wished I'd dressed him in something warmer. I tried to cover his bare legs with a cloth grocery bag, but he pulled it off and threw it in the street. Oh, well. It would be a short walk.

We went up the street and waved at three basketball hoops before it began to drizzle again. I opened my umbrella and turned around. James wanted to keep going, but I wasn't keen on being caught outside if the rain grew heavier.

We arrived back, and I opened the outside garage door. James immediately pointed to his uncle's motorcycle and "asked" to get on. As I put my umbrella in the back of the car he pulled himself (still in the stroller) up to the grease begrimed grill and attempted to turn the gas on.

"Tell you what, James" I said as I lifted him up "Why don't you wait for Daddy inside while I put your stroller away."

I opened the door, set him down, and quickly closed it again before he could his little fingers in the door frame. I collapsed the stroller and wheeled it over to the car. I still had a headache, and I felt like I could fall asleep at any moment. Shuffling back to the door, I put my hand on the knob.

It was locked.

I reached for my keys. No pockets. My hands slowly went to my side as I remembered that I also had no phone.

I was perfectly still for a moment, and then leaned into the door and asked:

"James?"

The knob wiggled.

"Did you try to open the door by yourself?"

The knob wiggled again.

"Do you see the little piece of metal on the doorknob? You need to turn that back."

Wiggle wiggle wiggle, went the knob.

"James, if you unlock this door I'll give you ice cream."

Wiggle wiggle.

I fruitlessly tried to insert a non-existent fingernail into the lock for a few minutes, and then spoke into the door again:

"James, you locked Daddy out of the house. I'm going to see if I can get in through any of the other doors."

I ran back outside, where it was now raining heavily, then skipped up the concrete steps to the studio door. It was locked. I ran to the laundry room door, which forms a breezeway with the garage. I could see James still standing there and twisting the knob. Locked. The kitchen door was locked. The basement entrance through the Bilko was locked. And of course, the front door was locked. I ran back to the laundry room, where I could see James and he could see me.

"James, can you hear me?"

He turned around and came over to me, stepping carefully past the scary vacuum cleaner parked next to the dryer. He had started to cry, and and he lifted his hands up at me imploringly.

"James, I can't get in! Can you please try to turn the lock on this door?"

He tried for me, then lifted his hands up again, crying even harder.

"Oh James, I can't get in while it's locked!"

I stepped back for a minute and thought. No one would be arriving home for at least an hour. It was really raining now, but I was even more worried about James. I thought about all the scrapes I'd saved him from just since we'd arrived...catching him from falling off of a rolling chair he climbed up on twice, pulling him off the dining room table, and a near fall down the stairs.

"James, Daddy's going to be right back. You need to stay right here and wait for me. Do you understand? I want you to stay right here." He was still crying, but he looked up at me and nodded.

I ran down the driveway to the street in front of the Davis house and surveyed the neighborhood. I needed a phone, which meant that I needed to find someone who was home. It was about 10:30 on a Thursday morning, and I suspected most everyone would be at work. Would there be anyone at home?

I looked for cars in driveways, and didn't see any...but then I remembered seeing pre-school aged children at the house across the road and to the left. There were no signs of life from the outside, but I ran up knocked on the door.

Two little girls came to the door, and they found their mother, who immediately grabbed the phone when I explained that my one-year-old had locked me out of the house. J's mother was able to tell me where to find a spare key, and when I opened the door James was standing exactly where I'd left him by the laundry room door.

I couldn't find any ice cream, but he gladly settled for a spoonful of Nutella.