Soapbox

Friday May 30, 1997
So I’ve got this kid… and she made a bet with her brother, that if he ran out of the house, she could run around and get all three doors locked before he could get in one of them.
If you’re a parent reading this, you smell trouble right away.

I did this once with my little sister, only it was not fun and games with us. We were angry at each other and dead serious, and she pounded on the door so hard when I locked it a second ahead of her that she broke the glass, which fell inward and gouged into my leg. Instantly we former enemies were allies in our plan to make up a lie to Mom about how the door got broken and to hide the gaping wound on my thigh.

Anyway.
Well, Ted was off in Kentucky for the weekend and I was out in the yard cleaning dog doo, so right away you know the morning was not terriffic one for me. Kathleen came sauntering out the front door and announced to me proudly that she did, in fact, get all the doors locked so now her big brother Stephen cannot get inside.
“Well, he can get in the front door, can’t he?”
“Oh no, I locked that when I came out,” she said smugly, as my jaw dropped.

Parents can already see the scenario of the next few minutes unfolding before them. They can see my eyes widen in horror and disbelief as I rush to the front door, howling,
“Katie, what did you do? Now we’re ALL outside!” They see her put her hands over she mouth as she realizes what has happened and burst into tears.
Now they see me rush down the street, waving my arms, trying to stop the neighbors from backing out of their driveway so that I can use their phone. (And see the father burst out laughing at my tale- he has three kids of his own, after all, and his house key is safe in his pocket!)
They watch me call my sister Becky who puts her baby in the car and bravely comes to our rescue.

Now they see us realize that she lent her copy of my house key to sister Julie- who is currently in New York City!

As I’m hefting a crowbar and contemplating forcing the dining room window, Kate notices that her bedroom window is up a few inches. So up a ladder I go with a screwdriver and come down with the screen. Then, while Becky acts as spotter, see me go up the ladder again. In a burst of inspiration, instead of trying to haul myself through the window, I carry Kathleen in my arms and shove her skinny little butt through the window.
“Ow!” comes the muffled complaint from her bedroom floor. “It’s a good thing you didn’t climb in here Mom,” she said, ” ’cause I fell right on my Barbie car.
“The one that you didn’t put away?”
“Uh…”  I think she somehow knew that, at that point, if I’d landed on it, I’d have tossed it out the window.

The last scene is of the Meiskys in the car. While Kathleen recites her new mantra “I will never lock a door unless an grown-up tells me to…” I drive to the hardware store to get several new copies made of my front door key. One for Becky, one for the neighbors, one for the other neighbors…

Kids! They’re fun, aren’t they?