Ever since J was a babe, she has had a firm dislike for her car seat and a love for my keys. So to make the loading process smoother, I would often let her hold my keys. Now that she is less fascinated with jingly metal, and more interested in buttons that do something, I give her the privilege of locking the car as we walk to the store and unlocking it when we load up. So as we were leaving the grocery store, I allow her request to "ode -dit" (hold it) and unlock the car. I get her buckled in as she rejoices in a glorious reunion with her "banky." I throw my purse in the passenger seat, and go to return the cart like a responsible grocery shopper. As I return to the car I hear the most panic-inducing noise.
Honk.
Honk. honk
Oh crap. She is still holding my keys. That is the specific pitch of an '08 Honda Fit being locked.
Honk.
So this is how it happens. I always wondered how stupid a mom could be to let her kid lock her out of the car.
Now I know.
Meanwhile I see a delighted snaggle tooth grin through the tinted window. She is delighted to show how she can make the car sing.
Honk.
Honk.
Honk. Honk
Honk.
Honk.
No onlookers, this syncopation is not from a unique car alarm. I don't know if anyone was concerned or staring because I was focused on keeping the panic at bay by creating a little emergency action plan in my head while smiling and attempting to cajole my toddler out of her position of power. Ok self, I can just call Husband and he is 25 minutes away from opening the car with his key. The day is lovely, no harm will be done.
Hello cell phone in the front seat of the locked car! I hope you like your inaccessible perch.
Plan B then. Accost a stranger with my best haggard mother face and ask to borrow a cell phone. Call husband for rescue.
Or Plan C, break a window. I know from experience that a pumpkin thrown at our back window will shatter the glass. Thank you New Mexico vandals of 2009. I also know there is a reason I pay for full glass coverage on my insurance. We will see how long I can keep the hysteria at bay before indulging in this choice. Besides, then I'd have to figure out what to use to break it.
I decide to continue to try my luck for a few more minutes, smiling hopefully with my nose pressed to the glass, gesturing to my daughter as I say, "No, the other button, sweetie!" another dozen or so times.
Honk.
Honk.
She has a thumb on each button and still thinks this is oodles of fun taunting me with each honk.
Honk.
As she holds it out to me, offering to let me take it, "No! No! You keep it! Just please don't drop it!" Meanwhile I run to the driver's door, remembering that one click opens the driver's side, two for the others.
Honk.
Man my car horn is loud.
Honk.
Honk.
Really Loud.
Honk.
Honk.
Click.
OH BEAUTIFUL EARTH AND SAVIOR! THANK YOU LORD!
My manic handle-pulling has paid off and I catch the split second window between thumb dexterity exercises. I get in in driver's seat with a big sigh of relief, retrieve my key from a happy little almost two year old and say, "Ok time for a thank you prayer to Heavenly Father."
"Deet oo!"