A Misnomer

I did not lock the boys out of my room last night, though that is how the story will be re-told – similar to the story of “The Time Mom Ran Over Ezra’s Foot with the Car.”

Did I once run over Ezra’s foot with the car? Yes. Intentionally, No. What happened is I have a kid who likes to pop out of the car while I slow to brake in the driveway. I’ve run him through the sequence many times – Park, Off, Out – but he never listens, and one time, he popped out of the car while I rolled to a stop … right on his foot.

It ended well for the foot, but I’m forever the villain in the story that should be titled, “The Time Ezra Didn’t Listen to His Mom and Got Stuck.”

Last night’s story is the same. Did I sneak to my room for peace and quiet? Yes. Did I shut the door behind me? Yes. I did not lock the door, but sometimes it has the feel of locked, courtesy of sticky 1960s hardware.

So, when a boy tried to bust in 6 minutes and 11 seconds later, found the door “locked,” and shouted for brother reinforcement, who also found the door “locked,” I did not correct them. I held my breath. I heard the boys run downstairs, shouting “locked!” I heard Matt’s footfalls coming up the stairs.

He opened the door just fine and threw me a look. I threw it back, sighed, and headed downstairs, thus concluding the tale of “The Time Mom Took a Breather,” otherwise known as, “The Time Mom Locked Us Out.”

It all depends on your perspective.

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