Joseph was refusing to listen to me
(in fact he was saying, “No! I’m not doing it, I SAID!” He is SOOOO charming.)
so I tossed him into his room for a time out and shut the door.
And then I heard a sound that chills a mother’s heart.
The click of the door lock.
At first I naively assumed that, since he LOCKED the door himself, he could therefore UNLOCK it.
Not so much.
After about 15 minutes of doorknob rattling on his part:
“It’s stuck! I can’t open it!”
much coaching on my part:
“Turn the part in the middle! You know, the little circle lever? Turn it sweetie and you can get a treat!”
and a little bit of doorknob-prodding-with-a-wire,
I decided to do what just about any mother would do.
I called my husband.
(What husband DOESN’T like to receive panicked phone calls from their wives which they
a) can do nothing about and
b) disrupt their work day, I’d like to know?!)
Brian murmured a few words of sympathy, and told me to call the landlord if I needed help.
And to keep him posted.
At this point I start to lightly body slam the locked door.
And then not so lightly.
Joseph is an intelligent boy, I thought, he just needs a little bit more direction.
So, I ran into our room, and quickly printed off some diagrams.
I slid one under the door.
ME: “See, sweetie? See the part that the ARROW is POINTING to? Turn that! Okay? Do you see it? Look at what the ARROW is POINTING to, and then turn the same thing on the knob!”
After a minute,
Joseph: “Okay, Mommy, here it comes!”
and he slides the page back out to me.
“Oh, thanks sweetie, but NO, I want you to LOOK at the PICTURE! See this one here? Turn the part on the doorknob that looks like the CIRCLED part.”
Slide under to Joseph.
“Okay, Mommy, here comes your special paper!”
and back it came.
Commence more body slamming.
At this point, he had been locked in his room for 25 minutes (!!!) , and I was starting to feel a bit ill with panic.
I grabbed a flashlight, and shone it into the knob to get a better look at what I was working with.
I saw a little niche that I thought maybe I could…
so I grabbed a screwdriver out of our bedroom (which is where Brian keeps his tools, of course. Another post, dear readers, another post)
and WHAM, BANG, POP! I sprung open that door.
To find Joseph laying on the ground happily, staring at the ceiling and humming jingle bells.
He smiled at me and said “One more minute?”