We spent Christmas Eve at my mom's house. She made a yummy dinner and we played playdoh on the (tile) floor. The thought of playdoh on carpet makes me wince. I know, I know let it dry and vacuum it up. Is that after the boys stomp all over it and grind it in? I digress.
As I happily made a playdoh reindeer, mom informed me that TJ had locked himself in the bedroom. This happens all the time at our house, and I get a nail file or a flat-head screwdriver and unlock the door. As mom pulled out every key she could find, I realized that this lock was not the same type of lock I have in my house. This is a keyed lock that is not easily picked with a nail file or a screwdriver. None of the keys mom has in her house fit this lock. OK, I'm calm.
"TJ, come over to the door and open it."
"Okaaay." The door knob jiggles.
"Sweetie, turn the button in the middle of the knob."
"No." The knob continues to jiggle, then stops. He's playing. Luckily, this is the room in which mom keeps toys for the boys.
Mom tries to pick the lock. Coker tries to pick the lock. I try to pick the lock. Paul tries to pick the lock. Coker goes outside to try the window, but it is tightly locked. I continue trying to pick the lock. It looks so easy in the movies, but I couldn't find a hairpin. If I only had a hairpin!
Mom calls a locksmith, and he arrives in about 15 minutes. He picks the lock just like they do in the movies, only with real tools, not a hairpin. When the door opens, TJ is sitting on the floor looking at a book and is surprised to see a strange man. TJ turns back to the book as if nothing has happened.
Christmas Eve locksmiths aren't as expensive as you would expect.
1 comment:
LOL!!!!!
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