Since the appointment was in Phoenix at 8:20 am and we live outside of Phoenix, I was planning on leaving our house around 7 am to allow for traffic delays. This also meant packing some easily accessible snacks for the little man.
I got up early. I got Samuel up early. We got dressed. We packed our stuff and I was loading all our stuff (the Mary Poppins purse, Samuel's diaper bag, snacks and stroller) in the car when the worst thing happened. I heard Samuel do his latest stunt: he locked the door. Not too quick to panic, I reached in my purse to grab my house keys.
The pocket was empty. I fished around, just knowing my keys were in the bottom of my bag. No keys. Just a cell phone (and a ton of other junk). I called Kevin, knowing he was already in Phoenix, about a 40 minutes drive away. Of course, he didn't answer his phone. Not one to beat around the bush, the message I left was "Call me. It's an emergency."
"That should get his heart racing. I'll teach him to ignore my phone calls!" I thought.
While waiting on my return phone call, I peeked through the window (the blinds just happened to be slightly open. I could see Samuel in small slivers). He was on his knees in a chair at the kitchen table, looking back at me. He was happy and waving, yet occasionally calling for me to come back inside.
I've never attempted to break into someone's house so I don't know the techniques of using a credit card to open a door. And, while I am resourceful, I couldn't figure out how to turn a hairpin to key. While I wanted to try those options, I just don't have the skills.
My phone rang. Kevin calling me back. I told him what happened. I think he chastised me a bit to which I promptly responded "Samuel is locked in the house, I'm outside. When we get him out, then let's play the blame game." Kevin told me to call the fire department, or wait on him to come. He was too far away, so I called my old friends at the Gilbert Fire Department. (Side-note: They should really consider a frequent caller club.)
It was more waiting and watching, secretly hoping for Samuel not to move, or at least to keep making noise so I knew where he was. The fire truck pulled up, followed soon after by a police officer who wasn't really sure what to do, but just felt the need to supervise. He tried to calm me by saying this was the second time in a month he had been on a call like this. The firemen worked on opening the door. They must have asked 10 times if the dead bolt was locked. "No. Just the knob."
There were some more questions for me:
- How old is the child? He'll be two later this month.
- Is he hurt? I don't think so. I haven't heard him cry.
- Where is he? Um, he's in the house. I don't know where in the house because there are these walls in the way.
Then came the shocker. One of them asked me, no lie, "Are there any other older children or adults in the house with him?" I think I was so dumbfounded, I really wanted to say "Why would I have called you?" But I just said "No, it's him and the dog."
Oh, the dog. Lucy was going crazy. She is very protective anyway and she didn't understand these people were breaking into my house because I had asked them to. *sigh*
They opened the door. Lucy was there to tear their face off, I mean, greet them. Samuel was sitting in the floor with his pants around his ankles. Everyone was happy to see everyone. We thanked the firemen, went outside to see the truck, then went back inside to regroup.
Since the whole ordeal had taken longer than I had cushioned the schedule for, I called the CF nurse coordinator to let her know we would be a little, or a lot, late. We decided it would be best to just reschedule since their schedule was packed that day and there really wasn't any wiggle room. Fine by me. I needed to go get a new door knob for my door! All in all, it was much more action than I cared to see by 8:00 am. And without any coffee.
