A Child Rearing First

You would think with four children that this would have happened to me before now, but Katie locked me out of the car yesterday. We arrived at Matthew's preschool several minutes early to pick him up, and as we waited in the driveway, she asked if she could get out of her car seat. So I undid her seat belt and let her roam free for a few minutes, and then when it was time to go in, I did what I do every single time I pick Matty up from school--I left her in the van with a movie going on the DVD player. Didn't think for one second about it. (Lest you think I'm a completely neglectful mom: the car is obviously not running when I do this, Miss Stacey's school room is at the front of the house with a large window facing the driveway, and there are several other moms picking up their kids at the same time, so I'm not leaving her totally unattended.) When I got back to the car, I found that she had climbed into the front seat and pushed the lock button, which locks every door in the van. I tried for an HOUR to get her to unlock it, to no avail.





See how close she is to the lock button? See how she's staring at it intently and moving her hand toward it, like ANY SECOND NOW she's going to figure out that all she has to do is push it up, and Mom will be able to open the door and unwrap that mini Butterfinger bar that Katie found on the front passenger seat? See the water droplets on the window that are actually melted snow that has also been melting all over Mom's back because her coat's in the car?



See the look on her face that says, "Why do you keep pointing at the bottom edge of the window? Why are you hopping around like a crazy person? What exactly do you want me to do here? I already pointed to the Honda logo like you apparently wanted. What is this 'button' you keep talking about? Can you please just open the door and unwrap this Butterfinger already?"

Thank goodness Paul's office is only about 10 minutes away, or I would have been up a creek. I don't know what would have been more expensive and/or embarrassing, a call to the police, a locksmith, or repairing a smashed window.

(Thanks to Miss Stacey for the photos!)