Sunday, March 27, 2011

Sunday morning drama

The day just wouldn't be complete without it.

So, Todd got up with the girls this morning and I was sleeping in. Now if I stopped at that sentence, it would be lovely, but no. Ooooooh no!...No loveliness at all.

What I came down the stairs to was anything but peaceful. By all the ruckus you would have thought we were in the middle of a natural disaster. And, if we dropped the word natural, it WAS a disaster. I mean a HUGE disaster. In fact, of all the time we've lived in this house (I know, less than a year, really... but still), we have never had disaster on this grand of scale.

Apparently, on Faiths way out of the bathroom (with no one behind her), her little two year old hands locked our one and only bathroom door. Yes, you read that right; one and only bathroom. It's an old farmhouse. I guess back in the 1800's when this beauty was designed, only one bathroom was essential. Not so much the case now. (Not complaining of course, but still, a set up for disaster.)

I flew down the stairs with lightning speed, convinced that some one was surely dying.

"What's going on?" I asked, my eyes darting back and forth looking for the injured person I was sure I would find.

"Faith locked the bathroom door, and we've all got to go!" said a wild eyed Keano.

Well, gooooood morning, Sunday. 

I wish I could give you a moment by moment, but at this point it is still a bit of a blur.

Todd had tried about every reasonable possibility he could to pick the lock. It wasn't working. He was already late for Sunday school for the class he was teaching. The tension was mounting.

I walked around the outside of the house bare foot (my feet are still cold) and tried the windows. Locked. Nothing like trying to break into your own house.... especially when it's to no avail.

Keano, after he announced that he just 'went' in the woods, saw the entire event as an adventure. A mystery to be solved. (It wasn't as cute as it sounds, at the time.)

Gloria, who has a good cold going on, just kept wimpering, "I neeeeeeed a tissue. My nose wont stop running!"

Faith, who is newly potty trained, with the bladder the size of a pea, starts saying "Mommy, I need to go pee pee." I ignored her. What was I to do? If I explained to her that we couldn't right now it would just make a bad thing worse.

My reasoning worked for all of....say, hmmmm..... two minutes. Then came the potty dance. MOMMY. PEE PEE!! Enough said.

Moving along...

Felicity, who has the least worries in the world when it comes to bathrooms, just wanted to be in the mix and under our very busy feet.

So, there we were.. All 6 of us, down a narrow little hall, doing our best to stay in the front and get through a locked door. Recipe for disaster.

We were done for. Done. For.

There's a chain saw in the chicken coup. I would lie if I said we didn't seriously contemplate it. If it wasn't for the fact that we weren't entirely sure how to use it, this stories ending would probably be significantly different.

I put all my effort into the last shred of sanity that I had and called the landlords. Who, conveinently enough, are my parents. I know, this probably should have come well before this moment. We weren't really thinking straight, if you hadn't noticed.

My dad rushed over. His handy dandy collection of tools in tote, ...and in about 2 minutes flat, saved the day.

Yup, just like that. A tug here, a twist there, some magic mechanical sprinkle dust, and it was over.

Six eyes on the toilet, 12 feet rushing in. Privacy on the other side of a now open door.

In Namibia checking out Dad's beard. (Keano in the middle)
Little Faith
He loves 'his girls'

In Namibia. Dad on my left. T on my right. One of my favorite photos :)

One day, we'll laugh about this. One day, after we get a door knob that doesn't lock.

1 comment:

  1. Aren't Dad's the greatest. My Dad is not my landlord but I still call for his help ALL the time. He is always there for me.