It’s just not home until you’ve locked yourself out

We moved into new office space last weekend! YAY us!  It’s bright and spacious and full of doors…the kind that are locked but you don’t realize that until it has closed behind you and you can’t get back in.

Within three days of us being in our new office space, everyone one of us had been locked out at some point.  Now, we are a group of harmonious, fun-loving women in this office but we are all competitive, even with each other albeit subconsciously much of the time. So, in that fashion, I apparently needed to lock myself out better than Judy & Leslie had.

It was Sunday evening and my husband Dan, and our two boys (2 and 3 yrs old) all came down to the new office to check it out and get me settled.  The boys were having a great time poking around and getting into things little boys can either break or contract infectious diseases by licking.  My husband decided to check out the basement and asked me a question about something in the stairwell.  I stepped into the stairwell and let the door close behind me locking both of us out of the office…and away from our children.

Now thankfully, our office is full of big windows so we could instantly run to the front door to see the boys.  (I had dead-bolted the door upon entering because I didn’t want the boys running out of it into the street.) They were just closing themselves into the conference room as I was pounding on the glass front door trying to get their attention.  The meeting they were going into must have been pretty important because they completely ignored my panicked cries for their attention as they closed the door tight.  Thankfully, Dan had his phone on him so I called one of the few numbers I have memorized – Judy’s.  She answered with sketchy reception from a beach at least an hour away from our crisis and said she’d call Denine to come to our quick rescue.  All the while, Dan and I were desperately trying to garner the attention of our boys in the conference room with no windows and a closed solid wood door, hopeful that they would emerge to be coached through opening a dead-bolt lock.

This whole timeline felt like an hour, but the reality was that only a few minutes had transpired since that door closed behind me.  Finally, our 2 year-old escaped the conference-call! He responded beautifully to our commands to come to the door, reach up and turn the gold lock!! However, (sigh) he’s just too short to force the lever over. So, we waited patiently for the taller one to wrap up his presentation and come out.  When he did, he too followed our directions beautifully and unlocked the door like a pro.  Success!

I know there a zillion stories of being locked out and at least a million of them involve being accidentally locked away from one’s child, but in our little world, ladies…I think I won!