Locked in.

Yeah, so, I just got locked in the bathroom with Owen while Katie was roaming around ungated. (I thought she was gated in but then I heard her playing with the dog bowl and knew she was on the loose.)

Talk about trying to stay calm in a panic.

How did it happen? Well, the door knobs were off from a kid-locking-herself-in-during-play-group-incident earlier that morning and I hadn’t put them back on yet (no, we were never given the little keys to unlock the doors—and we’d tried to find some to buy but just never did). So I didn’t even think about it when I shut the door behind me to keep Katie out while I dealt with a diarrhea pull-up.

Talk about an instant all-over body sweat.

Okay. I can’t get the door open. Who do I call? Who is closest that might be home? I thought of any of the mommy group people who were just there but I knew the closest ones had kids napping…

Okay, I can get one pin out—if I can get them all I can take the door right off the hinges. Nope, the other two are stuck. Calling Tom was pointless since it would take him at least 45m to get home (and there’s not much he could do over the phone).

Who would know how to get the door off? Roger might, but he’s likely busy. Ursula—she could at least come get Katie and then—oh, duh—she could likely put the knob back on. So I called her and she wasn’t home (5m away) but was in town (15m) so as I was telling her what was going on I was still messing with the door and trying not to sound terribly panicked…when I somehow managed to move something just enough to allow me to open the door.

Ah.

Breathe.

Wipe the sweat off my forehead as I thank Ursula for answering her phone.

Then race to find Katie…who was happily playing in the playroom.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

And put “buying keys” on our shopping list. 😐

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