Since my husband works in a church Sundays are a "work day". He leaves early in the morning usually before anyone else is awake. It's my job to get all the kids (and myself) fed and dressed and out the door by 9:10am. This isn't that big of deal. *Unless* the devil is prowling around your home.
If it's going to go wrong, it goes wrong on Sunday mornings.
Last Sunday we were actually doing really well getting out the door. I had laid clothes out the day before (Saturday: the day of preparation). Everyone was happy with effortless cereal for breakfast. Nobody fought me on the clothes selection (albeit, my standards have fallen drastically). And I was having a pretty good hair day. We were heading out the door by 5 after 9. Woohoo! Did I mention I teach Sunday School? I can *not* be late. There's a rather large group of squirmy 2nd graders (and their parents) relying on me.
Out the door we go. I go to the side of the van where Margo sits, open the door, buckle her in, and put my purse on the floor of the van. *My purse contains my keys and my phone.* I shut the door and walk to the other side of the van.
Meanwhile, Brennan and Charlotte are playing on the driveway and Calvin is trying to open the sliding door on his side of the van. He's having trouble opening it and assuming it is locked he opens the drivers side door and hits the unlock button. But he actually hits the *lock* button. Before I can stop him he slams the door shut. I swear it happened in slow motion. Him slamming the door, me saying "Nooooooooo!!!".
So, if you're still reading, my keys, my phone and Margo are all locked in the car.
I should also mention that we have no home phone. Only cell phones. Only cell phones that are now locked in vans.
Tyler has the only other set of keys. Now would be a good time to tell you that Tyler leads the worship music on Sundays for our church. Because he doesn't want his phone to accidentally ring while leading music he leaves it in his office.
So I instruct the "free" children to sing songs to the "trapped" child while I go neighbor to neighbor looking for a phone to borrow. Apparently many of my neighbors go to church or sleep very soundly because I had to knock on quite a few doors to find someone home.
But I found a phone to borrow. Am I the only one who no longer has a single phone number memorized? Seriously. I can recite 4 of my best friends numbers from grade school, but that is it. Well, that's a bit of a lie. I have Tyler's number and my sister's memorized, but that's it! I left several panicked messages on Tyler's phone and then decided to call my sister. My bro-in-law deserves an award for the number of times he's saved the day for me (always on Sundays!!). He drove up to the church, got the keys and brought them to us.
Singing songs to Margo on the opposite side of the glass worked for awhile. But after about 30 minutes I'm pretty sure she thought we were crazy. And maybe a little mean for not unbuckling her and getting her out when she started crying. The whole thing lasted about 45 minutes. Poor thing. We really tested her laid back personality. Turns out she has about 30 minutes before she gets really mad.
One more thing. I see now I was thinking in panic-mode, but at one point I thought I would just try pulling REALLY hard on the door handle. I don't advise this. I pulled so hard that I pulled it off. Which sent me flying into the trash cans behind me. Remember that good hair day I was having? Not so much anymore. However, this move alone has made my kids look at me in a whole new light. Once at church they didn't tell anyone about Margo getting locked in the car. But they did tell everyone "My mom pulled so hard she broke the door handle!!!"