Stranger Danger!

My son Jack often humors us with his facial expressions. Typically, he can get me smiling in a matter of seconds when he is explaining something from his day or trying to get out of trouble. But, his darling expressions garner a great deal of frustration when I am viewing them through the window of a locked door.

The necessary background information...

At his 12 month check-up the pediatrician told me Jack was delayed and she was concerned that he may not learn to walk or talk... wait, wait - this is too far back as far as blogger background information is concerned.

Fast forward...

When he was 3, I learned that Jack was tall enough to reach, and use, the dead bolt on our front door. As I am in close running for a highly coveted Mother of the Year award I must admit to the judging committee that I take the dog outside without bundling up my kids and bringing them along. Bailey and I are only outside the house by a matter of yards so she can 'go potty'. Henry is angelically napping in his crib and Jack is happy with trains. Here I am bringing Bailey back to the house (of course I scooped and had her leashed - I was, after all, out front).  I approach the front door and can see Jack through the window, just standing there looking at me.

{side note: my dog doesn't take forever to do her business}

I almost broke my nose when I face-planted on the door as my body thought it was entering the house and my brain simultaneously realized that the door was locked. Oh, dear... (internet censorship code 'dear' is probably not the word I used!).

Here is the conversation that followed. (with the boy who was declared delayed with no chance of standing on his own two legs or talking with his pie hole)

Me: <knock, knock: I was gently tapping on the door> Jack-Jack! Unlock the door for Mommy. Bailey and I are getting cold and want to come inside.
Jack: I can't. <pursed lips, I am pretty sure he rolled his eyes in a 'Duh' expression>
Me: Sure you can, just use the same knob you just used to lock the door.
Jack: I am not allowed to! <hands on hips, with a combination look of toddler exasperation and sass>
Me: What!?! <I am now irrationally envisioning a person in my house telling my son not to open the door. I also am containing my inner monologue and string of special vocabulary.>
Jack: My mom told me not to EVER open the door for strangers! <hands still on hips, he had leaned forward and pressed his face to the crack in the door to bellow this at me.>
Me: Son of a motherless BLEEP (internet censorship)... Jack open the door! I AM YOUR MOTHER!
Jack: You told me to never open the door. That is your job... rebrember?
Me: Jack, that is when I am inside with you. I open the door when I am inside. Please, unlock the door!

At this moment, a fire truck siren can be heard in the distance. Jack's face lights up! 

Jack: Mom, do you hear that?! I am going to go and see it out the back window!! Bye Mom!
Me: John Patrick, come back and unlock the door!!! <I am now banging on the door, and by all appearances from the street, trying to break and enter my own home.>

For those concerned... no worries. The neighbors are wonderful and we all have each others house keys. I just had to rank which one would laugh at me the least before picking a door to knock on and request my own key.

So fast forward to last evening.

Again, as an amazing candidate for Milky Way Galaxy Mother of the Year I displayed a quality level of laziness by not bundling the kids to head outside. I had let Bailey out the back door - off leash. (there is an unspoken rule on our street about dog walking etiquette in the front of the house compared to in the back alley) It appeared Bailey was leaving a dramatic gift on the path, so I decided to get the scooper and clean up after her.

1: The number of seconds needed for a 5 year old to lock the door. 

I actually heard the click before my foot left the back step. Ugh! I thought to myself - clean up the pile then deal with the boy(S). Bailey and I approached the house to Jack and Henry looking out the back window - laughing. Evil, sinister laughter. The kind they learned from their father when he
intentionally startles me and finds my reaction deliriously humorous.

To my delight, my daughter Emma was at the ready and had the good sense to unlock the door before the vein in my neck burst due to my elevating anger and blood pressure! Don't be fooled - I heard her chuckling as she walked away. Thankfully, I did not have to relive my lockout from two years ago. :)