I Need a Lock Lock

Do they make childproof locks that fit over other childproof locks? Maybe something like a padlock?

Abbie figured out how to open the lock on the refrigerator. The last defense against my inattentive parenting is disabled. Our cabinet locks still thwart Abbie. Those are sturdier locks that require the coordination skills of a 4-year-old to disengage, which is sometimes too much for me to handle in my more sleep-deprived days.

The refrigerator lock is simpler, requiring a push of a button and slide of the latch to open. I have to use the lock several times each day, because the refrigerator holds the things my children love the most. I’ve used it so many times I can open in with one finger, keeping the other hand free to ward off the pillaging children who charge when I crack the door.

Abbie must have watched me too closely during the hundreds of times I’ve opened the lock over the past several months. I should’ve known she was too interested in the lock when she started closing it for me. She would saunter up to the door when I forgot to lock it, and engaged it for me. I thought it was cute that she was imitating me, even helpful that she’d found a chore. It turns out she researching the inner workings of our child deterrents, intent on usurping my power.

I had to start locking the door when Abbie could open it, accessing the edible treasures inside. The fact that she was eating things without my permission or knowledge wasn’t my main concern, although it was disturbing to discover that she’d eaten half a tub of whipped topping. The fact she made a mess while trying to eat was my main motivation in denying her access. Yogurt was dumped, whipped topping was smeared, almost full gallons of milk were spilled, and tears were cried despite their inherent futility.

The refrigerator lock worked wonders for a few months. I could turn my back on the kitchen and be confident that Abbie wasn’t sneaking food, or if she was, she was sneaking dried foods from the shelves that were easily swept with a broom. That was just a reprieve, though, as the children grew quicker, stronger, and wiser. Not only is Abbie now better at finding her favorite foods, such as that fruit she won’t touch if I hand it to her in a bowl, but the boys are now able to access foods. As messy as Abbie can be, she’s dainty compared to the boys. In the past couple of days, they’ve ruined three apples, two tubs of whipped topping, an egg, and a carton of yogurt. Thankfully, they haven’t figured out how to open the cap on the ketchup bottle, or we’d have red highlights throughout the kitchen walls.

I need to closely supervise Abbie from now on.* I still use the lock since it at least slows her down. The ten seconds it takes her to open the door can mean the difference between a milk jug being upright and capped in the fridge, and being horizontal and uncapped on the floor. Even on those too frequent occasions when my supervision lapses, I’m learning to recognize the warning sounds of an open refrigerator door. A milk cap makes a distinctive sound when it hits linoleum. So does an eggshell.

* As opposed to before when I’d apparently take frequent naps on the couch while my children roam the floor with metal utensils in hand, searching for open electric sockets.