Yes, Honey, that is a real fire truck in front of our house, just like the one in your books!

Note to self: Hide a house key somewhere in our yard. Why, you ask? Because Abby did something this morning that I didn't know she knew how to do: lock me out of the house. Yep, my 22-month-old daughter locked me out. Locked me out without a cell phone, without shoes, and worse: without make-up. Darn Clean-Up-House Mondays where I don't get too dressed up. But I diverse.

I was in the garage putting back in her car seat (that Matt had forgotten to put in last night, so technically I could blame this entire brouhaha on him... :) ) while Miss Abby Mae sat peacefully on the couch watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. After a couple of minutes, I gave up my attempts at clipping the latch on the metal hook, so I went to open the door to the garage so I could get back inside. I went to turn the doorknob, but it wouldn't turn. No biggie. Must be jammed, I thought. I turned again. Nothing. Oh boy. Panic didn't set in. Yet. I tried again. I turned and turned and turned that darn knob, but it was futile. Crap. I felt my body temperature beginning to rise suddenly. The realization that I had absolutely no way of getting into our house suddenly hit me. No hidden key. No open window. No daughter who would politely unlock the lock for me. Believe me, I tried that. Abby, unlock the door for Mommy didn't exactly compute with my 22-month-old. Nope. Mickey Mouse was on. And how could I compete with him? He's way cooler than Panicking-Ever-So-More-As-Each-Moment-Passes Mommy.

I spotted a nail on the shelf next to the door. I tried to jiggle it around the keyhole. Did you know that if you try to open a locked door with a nail that the success rate is ZERO? Yep, I figured you knew that. Same goes for a bobby pin. Yep, I tried that too. OK, you can stop laughing now. Anyhoo, thank goodness for the neighbors behind us. Their back door was open, so I ran to the alley and called out to Pam who was nice enough to let me borrow her iPhone. After a two-minute lesson on how to dial on the darn thing (seriously, could it be any more complicated to dial a freakin' number?!), I called Matt. He, in turn, called a locksmith who said it would be 45 minutes to get to our house. For those of you who have kids, envision how much damage he/she could do in that long time span. Holy cow. 45 minutes? No thank you. So, they recommended calling 911. Duh. Guess I should've thought of that sooner.

The entire time I ran from Pam's house to our front yard, I pictured what all Abby could be up to inside our house. Had she climbed onto our dining chairs, onto the table and was swinging on the chandelier? Had she gotten bored with Mickey Mouse, picked up our family Bible and started ripping pages out? Had she turned to HBO and was watching something she shouldn't watch until she's 25? Yikes! All of these visions floated through my head as I ran to peek in the front window by the door. I anxiously peered into the window. What did I see? Something awful? Something dreaful? Nope. There was sweet, innocent little Abby, sitting on the couch watching Mickey. She turned toward me, standing outside like a fool, with a dumbfounded look on her face, as though to say: Mom, what are you doing out there all by yourself? Come in here and watch TV with me. Goofy's dancing, and you're totally missing it!

About that time as I'm talking to Matt on the phone, I hear sirens. Loud sirens. Fire truck sirens. You've got to be kidding me, I thought. When I told Matt what I heard in the distance, he couldn't stop laughing. Why was I so naive to think that Officer Joe would show up, have a magical key, open the door, and all would be well? Oy.

Sure enough, a giant fire truck turned the corner and parked in front of our house, complete with four firemen. By this point, I am so embarrassed I have turned about the same color as the fire truck. Abby has come to the front window to see what all the commotion is about. And I'm praying that no neighbors come out to see what's going on. Fire? Pipe Bomb?? Cougar trapped in your bathroom?!?! Nope, sorry, just a dumb ol' mom locked out of her house. How disappointing!

At that point, Abby had run to the window and had started to get upset. She knew that something wasn't right and didn't understand why Mommy wasn't coming inside, and I tried to reassure her through the glass. Luckily, the fire truck was pretty cool, so she stared and pointed at it for a bit. After several LONG minutes, I saw the back door open, and the firemen were inside. Hip Hip Hooray!! One fireman disputed my self-proclaimed title of Unfit Mother Of The Year. This happens all the time, he assured me. Oh, Thank God. Another fireman suggested I hide a key in our yard. We'd been thinking about that for months now, I told him. I think I'll be doing that this afternoon.

The firemen said their goodbyes, drove away, and I was suddenly exhausted. I think my adrenaline had been running for quite some time. Before naptime, Abby told me she wanted to watch "Boo Doo-uh" (Boots and Dora), and I quickly obliged. Heck, after all that happened, I figured she deserved it (even though she was the one who started this whole thing, she was trapped inside for a long time.) Luckily I don't think it was too traumatizing for her. The instant Dora came on the TV, she was fine. I tell ya, that Dora can fix any problem she might have! :)

Five lessons I learned from this ordeal:
1. Never underestimate your child's abilities. Oh man. At the rate she's going, I wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow she took the keys to my car and went on a little joyride around the block.
2. Hide a house key in case of emergencies such as this one. Duh. Wish I would've done this a tad sooner.
3. Know your neighbors. Thank you Keith and Pam for helping a sister out!
4. If you have stairs, ALWAYS keep the gate at the bottom of the stairs closed. Thank goodness I had the gate up. If I hadn't, I would have been petrified! Also, I am so grateful I had put up the scissors I had on the table during our "Art Time" this morning. All joking aside, it could have been a lot worse.
5. On another serious note, stash some eyeliner and lip gloss somewhere in your yard in case you ever get locked out. You never know when firemen will show up and you need to look somewhat decent. :)

I can't wait to read The Allen American later this week to see if we made The Police Report. How exciting. If we do, and you want an autographed copy, let me know and I'll send you one. :)

Ah, the joys of parenthood. Kids sure do keep us on our toes (or on the front porch, as the case may be!) don't they??