I locked my keys in the van on Friday.

I was in town with Kaitlyn, Lydia and Bethany, running evening errands.  We were waiting for hubby to finish working some late hours on a report, and we decided to stop in at Cavender’s Boot City.  Our Christmas gift to Natalie was a new pair of shoes – anything she wanted.  She chose boots, so I was in search of boots.  They were surprisingly hard to find, given that we are in Texas.  You’d think sneakers would be hard to find, not boots.  I was surprised that this required a special trip to a boot store, but here we were.

After a good bit of looking, I settled on a reasonably priced pair in her size.  Lydia wanted to use some of her savings to buy boots as well, but we really didn’t have time to stop and consider.  I told her to think it over a bit before she made a decision, and we headed for the checkout.   Kaitlyn asked for the van key so she could take the baby out ahead of time, and then it hit me.  Even before I looked in my purse, I knew just where the keys were.

In the van.  The locked van.

Out of sheer reflex, I began to root through my purse, never expecting to find a key.  I was right.  A cashier asked if I was ready to go, and I gave a weak grin.  “Yes, but I don’t think I’ll be leaving soon.  My keys are locked in my van.”

“Would you like me to call roadside assistance for you?” the young cowboy behind the counter asked.  I didn’t have roadside assistance and told him so.  I resigned myself out loud to paying for a locksmith.  “But I have roadside assistance,” he assured me, “and they say it’s good for anyone I’m with.  I don’t even know why it’s on my account – just found out 2 days ago, but I left it on so I could help out if a friend needed it.  I’ll call for you.”

The wait began.  Not long into it, we began to worry about the state of Bethany’s diaper.  She was long past due for a change and beginning to smell suspicious.  Remember my emergency diaper stash?  Empty.  Gulp.  While I wondered whether to get worried, and what to do if I did decide to worry, Kaitlyn chatted with a stranger.  The woman had a cute little toddler who was picking out her first pair of cowgirl boots and admiring Bethany.   As they wandered off, I voiced my concern to Kaitlyn.  “Ask her, Mom.  She said she has a 9 month old baby.  She probably has small diapers in her car.”

I was feeling shy and reluctant, but I knew it was a great idea.  I quietly stalked the poor woman and her child, trying to look casual and un-stalker-like while I rehearsed what I would say.  And also stalled.  Yes, I admit it.  I was stalling.  I’m a stalling stalker, a stalking staller.  I’m shy, for pete’s sake!  You can’t tell here when I’m running my mouth posting about our facinating life day in and day out, but anyone who has met me in person will tell you that my fingers talk a lot more than my mouth.

And so I stalked her.  I finally made eye contact as she checked out, and blurted it out:  “I have to ask you something really awkward.  My-keys-and-diaper-bag-are-locked-in-my-car-and-my-baby-really-REALLY-needs-a-change-and-you-told-my-daughter-that-you-have-a-young-baby.”  As I paused for breath, she smiled and offered a diaper.  So did the 25yo clerk behind the counter.  Then they asked if I needed anything else – wipes, formula, anything at all?  At this point, I probably should have asked if they had a key that would fit my van, but I just wasn’t thinking.  I always do things the hard way.

I changed the baby.  We browsed.  We checked the time.  We browsed.  Lydia found that she had plenty of time to consider her potential purchase, and she used some savings to buy boots.  I nursed the baby.  We browsed.  Our cowboy Samaritan apologized for the delay, and I assured him that he was doing us a great favor and we had time to kill.  We browsed.  We oohed and aaahed over the manly miniature cowboy belts and I suddenly remember that I still had Perry Boy’s birthday money from Great Grandpa and Great Grandma in my purse, 7 months after his birthday.  I was waiting until I came across something that he would really love.  Well, Perry Boy had cowboy boots, a real leather cowboy vest, and a cowboy hat.  He even has a wooden horse, but not a single belt.  Now he does.  Thank you, Grandma and Grandpa.

After a two hour wait, my van was unlocked.  It was a long wait, but it was worth it.

My boy has a belt, and he loves it.  He wears it every day, and he sometimes sleeps with it.  Not wearing it, but holding it.  Snuggling, maybe.  I don’t know.

He has a belt.  Now he’s a real cowboy.