You wouldn’t think breaking and entering would be a handy skill-set for an upstanding, law-abiding citizen. There were several times as a missionary when I accidentally locked me and my companion outside our upstairs apartment, and we had to climb in through our kitchen window. Have you ever scaled a roof in a skirt? It’s an adventure, I assure you.
A week ago, our upstairs neighbor Josh knocked on our door. He was dressed in a full suit (I’m still not sure why), and he’d locked himself out. All his roommates were with family for Christmas break. After he and my husband tested all the windows, Josh decided it wasn’t worth the effort and just kicked in the front door. My husband had to do the same thing a few days later, when Josh forgot to leave the door to the laundry room unlocked for us.
And then, last night, Ethan got out of the car and looked at me thoughtfully. He felt all his pockets, thought for a second, and said, “I locked the keys in the apartment.” I was being a minimalist, and had not brought my purse along. We were locked out in freezing weather. Hooray! Adventure! I’m not going to detail how we got in (lest any would-be home invaders or pranksters read this blog), but one ice scraper, a few pieces of firewood, a long plastic spoon, a twisted piece of metal, and a rather tight squeeze through a window later, we were inside once again, warming our fingers and toes. We are apparently skilled intruders.
I hope this doesn’t become a pattern. And I hope our children don’t use the family talent for illegal purposes. I’m worried enough about them using it against their parents: the closet’s locked? Now it’s not! The bathroom door’s locked? Open! Christmas presents locked in the shed? No problem! The bedroom door’s locked? Not anymore… ♦