Today was DEFINITELY one for the books. I took all three children to the library’s story time. And celebrated arriving on time, which is no small feat these days. Pulled the “Cadillac” double-wide double stroller out of the trunk, and set it up. Took Bella out of the car. Placed her in the stroller. Strapped her in. Closed her door. Unbuckled Enoch. Told him to climb to the front drivers side, so that he wouldn’t have to climb over their carseats, and could exit on the sidewalk (Yes. I was thinking thru everything -right???). Put my car keys in my special pocket in the diaper bag so I would know where they were. Closed that door. Took Issa out. Closed that door. Put her in the stroller. Began arranging things on the stroller, covering girls with blankets, etc. And I turn around to open the door to get Enoch when I hear a very familiar “click-click”. Doors locked. Automatically. With the 2 year old sitting in the drivers seat. Next to the diaper bag. With my keys in it. And my phone.
For the next ten minutes I am trying to coach Enoch on which button to push to unlock the doors. And HE thinks this is a fun game. He pushed almost every button but the unlock door button. Windows. Window lock. Horn. Trunk.
“No Enoch. That button. The button with the key”
(and he goes to the ignition because that’s where you put the key)
No. Enoch. No. The black button. No. not that black one. THAT black button. Right there. That one. OK. Move your hand up (from the window control)”
(and he proceeded to hold both hands up in the air – because he’s literal – because he’s 2!!)
With my head on the window, looking right at the button, chuckling “Are. You. Kidding. Me???“
By now, I’m between laughing and crying in total disbelief. I’m looking around to see if anyone is watching this.
Finally, I thought of a different strategy.
“Ok. Enoch. Open the diaper bag. Yes. The zipper. That zipper. No. Not that one. The little zipper. Yes. Yes. Ok. Take out my keys. Yes, Mommy’s keys. Ok. Push the button. No son. Not that one. That’s lock. No. Not the trunk. Yes. Yes. Yes That one. That one“
Click-click.
Followed by “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, I did it!! I did it!!!!”
As I lean against the car… “Yes. Son. You did it. Good job. You did it.”
