The Key to Saturday: the Sequel

During the Summer of 2008, I locked myself and my then 2-year old out of the house for the afternoon....aaaand I did it again today.

Different house and different circumstances, but still - a lovely Saturday in August then, and six years later, a lovely Saturday in August, almost to the day. Just add my mom.

She drove up for an afternoon visit. T-Spot didn't have to leave for work until 2, so the three of us were able to go out to lunch together. Because he grabbed his house keys, I must have made some semi-aware decision to ignore mine. After we ate, we dropped T back at home so he could get his stuff and take off for work, and we drove around running some errands...of course you see where this is going: I'm blissfully unaware, running errands like a boss, that I don't have my house keys.

By the time we get back, T is gone and the door is locked. Having learned my lesson about the hidden spare in 2008, I wasn't concerned.

The spare, however, was not in its spot.

I'm skipping over the part where I call my husband and freak the fuck out at him. Use your imagination.

Of course, it's not completely his fault the spare had been moved. We gave it to our neighbor to check on the dog last week, and when she returned it, one of us (ahem) didn't put it back. But whatever: I'm the one locked out and someone has got to hear my wrath.

My mom is laughing. She suggests we simply drive to him, about a 20 mile drive, and get his key.
"I guess that's better than smashing a window." I said.

S over heard this. He went to the garage and got a hammer.

"I can smash a window!"

"We are not smashing a window! Get in the car!"

The dog, who this entire time has been inside, barking herself to the brink of death, is starting to claw the door, desperate to join us outside.
S is walking around swinging the hammer in the air jabbering about smashing things.
My mom is still giggling. I am not sure how she's finding this all so cute. Must be some sort of menopausal grandma zen.

Just as we are getting into the car, T calls back to tell me his coworker heading back our way can deliver his key to us, and he'd get there in about half an hour.

This sounds better than a 40-mile roundtrip, so I'm down.

We retired to the rocking chairs on the porch to wait. S announced he's going to smash rocks with his hammer.

The breeze was soft, and everything was calm (well, except the rock smashing). I miss my mom a lot sometimes. I complained about the grass clippings on the sidewalk and she got up and swept them. I told her when she missed spots.

"Are you enjoying this?" she was still laughing.

"Yep. Can you start at the top and work your way down the steps now? That would be more efficient"

"Nope."

"Ok."

Like the first one six years ago, this lockout turned out to be a gift.