lock in

This morning it was 39 degrees in Austin (no joke!) so I decided to postpone our walk around the lake until this afternoon when we were expecting a high of 70. The weather could not have been better, and a 3:00pm walk is always great for killing time with toddlers. I'll skip over the walk itself and go straight to the good part of the story...

Getting everyone back in the car after our walk is always an ordeal, and today was no different. I secured Scout in her seat and, with Catcher by my side, packed the stroller in the back. I closed the rear door to our Explorer, and the moment it shut I heard a distinct "click." Scout had just locked herself in the car. Yes. I let my 15 month-old daughter hold the keys because she was fussy and cranky and screaming for them as I was struggling to get her to sit down in her car seat. My first thought was "Seriously?" followed quickly by "What now?" My phone was in the car, of course, so Catcher and I jogged over to a nice-looking gentleman who was stretching his legs a few cars away and asked him if he had a cell phone I could borrow. I explained my situation, so he called 311--supposedly they'll send someone out to unlock your car in such circumstances--and he walked back to the car with us as he told the operator our story. I peered in the window where Scout was sitting, and she looked out at me: smiling; keys in hand. For a second I tried a ridiculous sign language move to tell her to press the "unlock" button, but that didn't work (surprise!). At this point the gentleman told me they would have to send the police out to break into my car. Whatever. At least I didn't have to throw a brick through the windshield (and at least it wasn't 111 degrees).

Then Scout pressed the panic button on the car. The horn began blaring and Catcher asked me why Scout did that. I looked in at Scout and she was laughing and waving the keys. When Catcher was just a day old and still in the hospital, I remember a funny cross-eyed look he gave me with his hands up to his mouth indicating he was hungry. I'll never forget that look, and now I have a look from Scout that I, too, will remember forever--those mischievous eyes! Throwing my hands up in exhaustion and wondering when the police would get there--and whether or not they would destroy the lock on my car and how much that was going to cost me--I moved around to the back of the Explorer and "pop:" Scout had pressed the blue button that opens the upper half of the "trunk." Six months pregnant, I wiggled through and grabbed the keys out of Scout's hand in a thrill of victory. I signaled to my helper (who had to walk away to be heard on the phone over the blaring horn) that I had the keys and everything was cool, and I quickly strapped Catcher in his seat with the keys clenched in my fist. How's that for an exciting five minutes?

On the drive home Catcher told me that Scout can't hold the keys anymore but he can because he won't lock the door...I think I'll be holding onto them myself for a while.