I never leave home without my cell phone. Running across the street to get a loaf of bread? It is snug in my bag pocket. Going to a friend's house? You better believe it is in the diaper bag. Hanging laundry out on the veranda? I've got it clothes pinned to the line. (Alright, you caught me, that last one is am exaggeration, but you get the point, right?)
I never leave home without my cell phone, and last Friday was exactly the reason why.
Snap (no, not the sassy In Living Color kind) and Sophie is buckled into the stroller and ready to go. I check to make sure I have my cell phone and that the door is locked. Everything looks good, so we are off to pick up Bailey.
Sophie is happy for now, but I know it won't last long. She hates that stroller or being held for that matter a little more each day. We pull up in front of the daycare and after a few hundred good-byes and high fives we are on the way back home.
I am contemplating spaghetti and meatballs versus macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets for dinner when I realize Bailey's not walking beside me. I turn to the left- no Bailey. I turn to the right- no Bailey. I hear a giggle coming from a bush ahead and Bailey jumps out. I make him hold my hand until we get home.
Stepping off the elevator, Bailey grabs the key card and runs ahead to open the door. I help him put the key in the slot and pull it out. I try to twist the knob, but the door doesn't budge. I double check to make sure this is our apartment. It is and so I try again and again and again and again.
By this time Sophie has had enough of the stroller and is starting to cry. Bailey, on the other hand, finds this all amusing and is clutching his stomach and laughing like a madman.
Never fear, SUPER CELL PHONE is here. I call Hubs at work.
"Oh yeah, he says when I explain my dilemma, "I had trouble opening it last night, too."
Why, oh why, didn't he tell me that last night or this morning, I thought.
"Hit it with your shoulder. That's what I had to do," he offers in the way of help.
No. No. And, no again. "Hush," I hiss to Bailey, who is almost rolling on the floor, "This is not funny!"
"Bailey do it," he says drawing up all his three year old strength.
"Ok," I shrug, "What can it hurt?"
"Are you in yet?" Hubs says into my ear.
"No," I groan, "One more try and if this doesn't work we are gonna wait at the shopping mall across the street until you get here."
And then, it happened, the door opened. Actually, our apartment opened it's big mouth in a yawn as if to say, "What took you so long. I was getting bored."
The culprit- two pebbles on the door jam. Two of the hundreds of pebbles Bailey insists we pick up on the walk to and from daycare everyday. Gotta find something else for that boy to collect....