Today was the day I was going to clean the whole house! Looking back, I should have not started with the garbage. But I did. I emptied all the cans in the house and took them outside, shutting the door behind me as I have always done, so little munchkin boy wouldn't run into the street, as he always does.
Upon returning to the door, I turned the handle and it was BOLTED SHUT!!!! My son is old enough to understand the lock is fun to play with, but has no concept of the word "Unlock". I discovered this because I said it probably 13,786 times with no response. Perhaps by some miracle I had left the kitchen door unlocked! Yeah right! I live in an old creepy neighborhood and am too persistent that all closed doors should be locked. There was a probably a backlog of prayers to heaven at this point.
Son inside crying. Mother outside beginning to panic. No shoes. No phone. No keys (of course. Then this would be a stupid post.) No neighbors home to use their phones. Curse you working productive neighbors!
There is a hammer in the garage! Well, there should be but I can't find the hammer anywhere. I'm sure I'm mumbling something about tools being where they should be at this point. So I open all the drawers I can. A hatchet! The kitchen door has small panes of glass. I'll just break a little one and reach in. Son is still at front door crying so I hurry to the kitchen. Don't want little feet on glass. With all my might I swing. BANG! Dang puny muscles! BANG BANG BANG!!!! What is this made of?!!!
So I come back with the sledgehammer. Pretty sure anyone who drives by and sees crazy woman running around the house with hatchet and sledge hammer and peering in the windows is going to call the cops. I could only hope the such help would come. I take one great big swing and THWACK! Seriously! Shocked how loud it is and how little it does. Why DOESN'T someone call the cops?!!! Well, obviously this window is made of some super material not found on earth.
Go back to front door and rattle the door hoping that it will shimmy the bolt loose and it will pop open. Bolts are known for those flaws. Right?! Okay, made it up. Consequence: shaking the door scares son. He tries to hide in bottom basket of stroller and gets stuck so begins to wail louder.
Meanwhile I yell through the doorcrack, "Open the door! Turn the button!" Somehow he escapes his trap and I see the door handle twist and he yells "Momma!" and knocks.
So I make my way to the back window and decide which will go. The single paned dining room window where I'm sure he'll come running over broken glass, but easier to clean up since it's tile? Or the already busted from the hail bedroom window that is double paned and harder to clean carpet?
Just as I'm taking one last look through the window whose fate had been decided I take a peek to the inside front door. Somehow, in his panic, my little toehead was trying to help mommy and unbolted the front door.
I run around the house to the front and turn the handle. It opens! Another swarm of prayers to heaven. The G comes running and I decide I don't feel like cleaning the house anymore. Maybe another day.