captain hook's revenge

the handsome man fixed the knob on our bedroom door so now when thing one locks it, we can push a pin in to pop the lock from the outside (we did discover that in a pinch, a hello kitty valentine's day card slid between the door trim and wall works well, too).

this is not the first time child + lock = unintended consequences. oh no.

back in the mists of time, when i was a new (read: terrified) mom, i tried to calm my anxieties by baby proofing. everything. i had gates and outlet covers, foam padding and locks. oh, so many locks! cabinet locks, cupboard locks, stove lock, refrigerator lock. if babies r us sold a lock for it, i sealed it shut.

i also made my own locks out of metal hooks and eyes to keep the precious bundle from opening the basement door (even though it had a baby gate just inside), the workroom door (in the basement, beyond the baby gate and locked basement door), and that great, gaping maw of death: the bathroom.

i don't know why i was so freaked out about her getting in the bathroom. perhaps it was those helpful baby proofing articles that scream, "NEVER leave your child unattended around water even for a SECOND! babies can DROWN in just a few inches of water, you MORON! what kind of mother ARE you?!"

i was convinced that should my attention ever waver, josie would immediately rush to the potty and plunge in, head first.

so i put a hook and eye outside the bathroom door and began hounding the handsome man to use it. i was relentless, a harpy screeching day and night, "lock the door! lock the door! YOU FORGOT TO LOCK THE DOOR!"

to his credit, he didn't divorce or institutionalize me; instead, he got with the program and LOCKED THE DOOR. it got to be an instinctive behavior for both of us, like putting your foot on the clutch when you drive a stick shift car. lock the door, lock the door, lock the door.

one night when josie was a little over a year old, i repaired to the bathtub with my chai tea and stack of smithsonian magazines (because i am a swinger). after a few minutes, the handsome man stuck his head in the bathroom, announced he was going to put the snow tires on my minivan (like i said, swingers), and left, shutting the door.

i think you know where this is going.

yup, he had unconsciously, instinctively (or so he would later claim) LOCKED THE DOOR. i discovered this about half an hour later when i emerged from the tub, bright red and shriveled as darth vader's skull (i like hot, hot baths), and pulled on the door knob.

i gotta say, those hooks and eyes really work. especially when you install the heavy-duty kind.

for those of you fortunate enough to live in warmer climes, i should note here that the proper, careful installation of snow tires takes a bit of time, and my husband is proper and careful when it comes to all things automotive. that means he not only lovingly mounted all four tires, he then drove the van to a gas station to check their pressure and add air, and finally took the van for an extended spin (city streets, highway) to make sure everything was working right.

so i was locked in my own bathroom for about, oh, two hours.

here is a partial list of things you can do in your bathroom for two hours:

• read several smithsonian magazines cover to cover, even those teeny tiny ads in the back
  
• pee
  
• clean the sink
  
• pee
  
• clean the toilet
  
• clean the tub
  
• look far too long and closely at your pores
  
• pee
  
• formulate an elaborate escape plan involving the bathroom's lone window, the snow drift outside for cushioning, your polar fleece robe for modesty, and your neighbors' gracious and bemused welcome
  

fortunately, before i performed my birdman of alcatraz impression, the handsome man finally returned. i heard him come in the back door, and i started calling frantically (but softly! don't wake the baby!) for release.

me: "charlie! charlieeee!"

him: (pause) "where are you?"

me: "in the bathroom!"

him: "still?!"

me: "i'm locked in! you locked me in!"

freedom, reunion, apologies and chuckles ensued.

and maybe a little less freakiness on my part, whether from wisdom or just from sheer fatigue after all that vigilance. i realized i gotta pace myself and save enough energy for the bullies, braces, boys and other horrors yet to come.

a nice, hot bath should help.