This morning I had a Very Scary Moment.

We're at a hunting ranch until tomorrow, and hubby had taken a couple of the children out on an early morning hunt.  Several more were unaccounted for, either still sleeping over in the children's room or already in the lodge.  I was alone in my room with the 2 youngest.

I'm an experienced mom, so I wasn't worried.  I told Perry to keep Bethany company and gave him a few reminders - don't pick her up, don't break things.  I locked the front door to my room so he couldn't keep running back and forth between the rooms, leaving the doors wide open to the freezing cold.  I took a fast shower, and popped out in a towel.  All was well.

Since the bathroom was steamy and small, I decided to get dressed in the walk-in closet.  I pulled the pocket door shut for modesty.  Good idea, right?

A minute later, I tried to open the door.

Did you notice the word, tried?

Scary, huh?

The door didn't budge.

Now I had a hundred thoughts flash through my head in the space of 15 seconds:

"Locked?  The door is locked?"

"Who in their right mind puts a lock on a closet door?"

"How did I miss the fact that there was a lock on the closet door?"

"Who in their right mind closes a closet door from the inside?  How many times have I read the Chronicles of Narnia?  Even little Lucy knew better."

"And the door to the room is bolted.  I can't send Perry for help.  He can't even let help in."

" Everyone will think I'm sleeping in late with the little ones, and they won't even come to look for us.  I'm in here until the hunters get back at 9.  What time is it?  That could be 2 or 3 hours.  Bethany will not be happy."

"And even when they get back, I'll have to wait for them to figure out the problem, and go find somebody with a key to the door.  The ranch manager will have to get involved.  At least I have my clothes in here."

"I wonder how hard I should try.  Can I force it without doing damage?  Is there anything in this closet that I can use to try to pick a lock or lift a latch?"  I started to access the situation.

And now, just because it seemed like a good idea, I called Perry over to the closet door.  Maybe the offending lock was a simple sort of latch that he could figure out.  I could hardly talk him through it because I had no recollection of a lock or latch on the door.

"Can you open the door for me, Perry?"

The door slid open, and he smiled at me.  No lock.  No latch.  Just a sticky door and a panicky mom.

"I got the door for you, Mom.  Boys get doors for girls, right?"

Related posts:

1. Because who needs a house key?
2. They’ve all dashed off
3. Good news and bad news
4. Part two of
5. He’s got it covered

Filed under: mom is neurotic