On this first weekend of spring break, I've been kid-free for more than four hours. I've already put gas in the car, gone grocery shopping and taken the beast with me to the UK version of Petsmart. His favorite thing to do is put his paws on the front dash, thus forcing me to attach him to the doggie seatbelt harness. Maybe one of these days he'll be disciplined enough to sit politely in the passenger seat for the entire trip without any sort of restraint.
I arranged for the teen to ride to Gatwick airport with one of her friends also going on the Young Life service trip to Greece. I though it was funny that the very sweet mom told me in advance they run late... and they did indeed get here at 6:55 instead of 6:30, which I guess was just a sort of wishful thinking time for them. We tossed her bag into the trunk, hugged and she was off for a week in Thessaloniki.
I watched them drive off and turned around to go back into the house. The only problem with going back into the house was our locked door. I came out before the teen and she closed the door completely to keep the beast from running out onto the front drive. And our door automatically locks when it is closed.
No amount of pushing or cursing or kicking would gain me entrance into the house. I was having a screaming, freak out conniption fit in my head for a couple seconds and then it dawned on me. I had already taken the beast out for his morning backyard stroll to sprinkle the grass and provide fertilizer for it. I all but skipped around through the side gate to let myself into the house via the french doors on the back patio.
The husband is always chastising me about keeping the french doors locked at all times... cause yo, yo man it's pretty dangerous all up here in da hood with gangs of private school kids running 'round loose on their high dollar mountain bikes on the mean streets of our gated community. But for real, I'm so glad my inability to keep the house secure at all times allowed me to avoid walking over to a friend's house about a mile away (at 7 in the morning dressed in my ratty sweats with unbrushed teeth - gah) to ring up a locksmith who will charge me time and a half for a holiday weekend service call.