Send Me On My Way
Spy Baby and I pulled into the parking lot of the park district earlier this evening to pick up Princess KIA and I was dismayed to see that all of the good parking spots were filled. I was still fortunate enough to grab a place in the first row even though it was way off to the side. By “way off” I mean it was like the fourth spot from the sidewalk which by park district definition is far away. Anyway, as I parked the car I chatted with SB about going inside to get Sissy and she babbled something back at me and I smiled and nodded as if I understood. I pulled the keys from the ignition, climbed out of the car and went around to her door to get her out of her carseat.
She was holding her cuppie and I was pleased to see that she hadn’t removed her muddy shoes again. I’d already had to scoop them off the floor once at a stop light and get her chubby little feet shoved back into them with her squiggling and wiggling in amusement, so the fact that they were still fastened and in place was a relief. After opening her door I hit the button to lock the doors and started to unlock her from her harness. The keys in my hand hindered my progress and without a jacket pocket to put them in (since the weather was so lovely and warm today) I set them next to her on the seat. Grabbing SB’s hand out of her mouth I saw a thick line of mud on her tongue. Muttering about what a gross child she was I tried to reach into the front seat for a tissue to clean her up but they were too far. I went to open the front passenger door but to pull that door open I had to move the back door and it slipped closed farther than I’d intended and…
I realized just as it was latching that the keys were in the car and the doors were locked. Muttering about what a moron I am I ran into the building to retrieve Princess and beg for help from her teachers. Mr. Paul and Mr. Bob were incredibly helpful as I blurted that I’d locked my baby in the car and needed someone to pop the locks. Mr. Paul went to call the police and Mr. Bob followed us out to the car with his son. Really, it was quite fortunate that traffic had been for crap tonight and I was the last parent to pick up or we wouldn’t have gotten nearly the same amount of hands-on support.
Mr. Paul came out and said the officer would be there within 5 minutes and then the five of us, myself, PK, Mr. Paul, Mr. Bob and Mini-Mr. Bob, stood next to the car and made small talk while smiling encouraging at SB so she wouldn’t panic. SB sat in her seat looking visibly confused about why we didn’t get in the car yet didn’t get her out. Much to my dismay she decided to drown her sorrows by gobbling up more mud off of her shoes and giggling as I pleaded for her to leave the yucky things alone.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable small talk with PK’s teachers the squad car appeared in the parking lot. As soon as SB saw the officer, who was a pleasant gentleman with mostly white hair and a white mustache, she began fretting. The fussing started and the slightly frantic jerking as she tried to get free of the straps that tied her down made me want to scream “HURRY UP!” but I managed to contain my stress. After failing to unlock the passenger side door the cop moved to the driver’s side with his long flat metal doohickey. He informed us that I had a good car with a burglar bar running all the way across the door.
Just as I was about to suggest that we locate a burglar to unlock my car (because really, thieves never seem to have problems unlocking car doors and my Cavvy definitely does NOT have any state of the art theft deterrent system) the door unlocked and was opened. My sigh of relief was cut short by the shriek of my car alarm. I ran to the door to push the unlock button for the rest of the doors, ran back to PK’s door, yanked it open and instead of being able to pull my baby into my arms and calm her screaming I had to scramble for my keys to shut the damn alarm off. When I finally managed to get SB out of her seat she was sweating bullets and threw her arms and legs around me like a vise.
The moral of this story is that I’m an idiot. As much as I would love to blame this on some secret terrorist agency I know the truth. Painful as it is, I must admit that I’ve been locking my keys in cars and houses for many years. I’m a known menace and a repeat offender. I finally cured my house problem by getting a garage with a door opener. I always leave out the garage and if I don’t have the remote with me I can’t close it therefore cannot lock myself out. The car thing is a bit trickier. I’m thinking my next car will have either have the keypad on the door or onStar with their number programmed into my cell phone. Unfortunately that won’t help me when I lock the cell phone in the car with the keys, but it’s a start.
In the meantime I think I’m going to find myself a shady mechanic who will remove the burglar bars from the doors and cut off the alarm. Seriously, who’s going to steal my 3 year old American-made intermediate size terribly messy box on wheels? That’s what I thought.
