Lock Smith

Abbie’s latest trick is pulling burp clothes out of her dresser, and boy does it annoy me. Not since she discovered grinding her teeth has one of her habits aggravated me so. With constant trips to and from the hospital now to visit the twins, I only have a few precious seconds to spend on laundry each week, and I’ll be darned if I have to waste those seconds folding burp clothes for the 430th time today so they’ll fit in that tiny drawer.

She discovered the burp cloth cache while grandpa was watching her and I was staying with Ellie in the hospital. I feel bad that my first reaction upon seeing Mount Burp Cloth in front of her dresser was that grandpa threw them out of the drawer looking for something, like the pajamas that I forgot to tell him which drawer they were in, and never bothered to put them back. I folded them back up, stuffed them back in the drawer, and set about conceive my revenge plot of pulling every cereal box out of his cupboards at breakfast in search of the raisin bran the next time I stay overnight at his house. A little later I noticed Mount Burp Cloth had reappeared, and grandpa was nowhere in sight. I stuffed them back in the drawer, and then caught Abbie in the act of pulling them back out. Sorry about that, grandpa.

I’m surprised it took her this long to find the burp cloth drawer. She discovered the joys of playing in the kitchen cabinets months ago, and ever since then I’ve been tripping over pans, wax paper boxes, and plastic storage containers strewn about the kitchen floor. That bothered me at first, but I quickly learned that I could easily return those items to their cabinets, and as long as I kept the lids on the plastic storage containers I wouldn’t have to worry about them collecting dirt and germs every time they hit the floor. Not that our kitchen floor is dirty; I clean it often, and by “I” I mean “the dog,” and by “clean” I mean “licks any loose food particles.” Fortunately she never bothered the dishtowel cabinet, so I decided that as long as it kept her from whining while I cooked and cleaned, I could spare a few seconds each night to return items to their proper cabinet.

The burp cloth pulling was too much, though. I could spend a couple minutes putting those away, and she could yank them back out in less time than it takes her to throw all of her green beans to the dog at supper. I took drastic measures and installed a drawer lock on her dresser. I bought a box of these drawer locks months ago when we were determined to create the safest environment possible for our toddler to explore. Then we discovered it was easier to just put the caustic chemicals out of her reach and store harmless items like towels and Benadryl* on the lower shelves, so we never even opened the box. When I finally opened the box, I discovered that installing the lock was as easy as assembling a sub-$80 glider, except I had to apply the tools. Installation required the use of a drill, which wouldn’t have been a problem except the drawer was too narrow to accommodate a drill. With creative use of angles and extensive ignoring of Abbie’s pangs of boredom, I successfully installed the lock on the drawer and the base on the dresser. Then I discovered that I improperly lined up the base and the lock and had to drill two completely new holes for the base.

After more cursing and ignoring, I properly aligned the lock. It works pretty well; slide the drawer out a little bit, push the lock down to disengage it, and slide it out all the way. The drawer doesn’t slide out very far with the lock engaged, only far enough for an adult to reach in and disengage the lock. Or just far enough for a toddler to reach her hand in and pull out a few burp clothes, so I need to keep them toward the back of the drawer. Or just far enough to trap a toddler’s wrist should she be foolish enough to reach in that far, so I need to pay attention when she whimpers uncharacteristically from her room.

It’s still better than refolding strewn burp clothes.

* Kidding!