Breaking and Exiting

Abbie locked me out of the house this morning. It happened while I was working on laundry in the backyard. I like to hang laundry outside to dry when weather permits. Avoiding the electric dryer is good for the environment and it saves money. That saving money thing would’ve come in handy if I needed the savings to offset the cost of a locksmith.

I let the kids run wild in the backyard while I work there. Sometimes they insist on me swinging them, but usually they find enough outdoor distractions for me to work in peace. They can chase a ball, slide down the slide, or just fill their pockets with sand to track through the house later.

I guess Abbie didn’t want to be outside this morning. I was too engrossed in clothespinning to realize that she had wandered back into the house. When I started inside to grab another load, I discovered our sliding glass door was closed. Usually I leave the door open, allowing a free exchange between the house and backyard of children, pets, and insects, so I had a bad feeling as I approached it. Sure enough it was locked tight. Abbie had apparently gone inside, shut the door, verified that the locking lever will stay in both a down and up position, and then wandered into the deeper parts of our house.

I knocked on the door, hoping I might convince Abbie to flip that little lever down. I couldn’t even get her to come to the door, though, so she must have been in her soundproof room, or possibly waist deep in the snack drawer.

I thought about pulling a screen out of a frame and crawling through an open window, but all the windows were still shut tight. Stupid late spring.

I opened the fence gate and walked around to the front door. This involved locking the boys in the backyard unsupervised, which I wasn’t eager to do. If Abbie slipped into the house and locked the door unnoticed, obviously my supervising skills are less than stellar anyway, so I trusted them not to get into too much trouble while I searched for a way into the house.

The front door was locked. I never know which of the half-dozen people passing by daily on our suburban cul-de-sac have malicious intentions, so I leave the door locked at all times. I didn’t have the key in my pocket either. Suddenly I wished I had checked my pants pockets carefully while sorting clothes.

My last hope was the attached garage. I fiddled with the door for a few minutes before opening it with a secret that hopefully none of those malicious passers-by witnessed.

I checked on Abbie and verified that she was in the house without doing anything naughty besides locking the back door. I then went to the laundry room to switch the load as I had planned to do before my impromptu property survey.

I carried another load into the backyard and continued clothespinning. After a few minutes, I realized that the boys were out of sight and too quiet. I walked around the corner and found the fence gate wide open. Apparently I didn’t shut it as tightly as I thought when walking to the front door.

Ian was playing on our front porch. Tory had taken advantage of our unfenced front yard and wandered down the street. A nice man had found him and chased him from the nearby intersection to our house. I alternately thanked him and apologized, and he told me not to worry about it, these things happen. I’m glad he wasn’t one of those malicious passers-by.