No, no, Ty!!!!! (A common refrain)

Ty has a miserable habit of locking doors.  Fortunately I've become a pro at locksmithing the inside ones -- I have a stash of easily accessible screwdrivers constantly in use.  However, he's discovered a much more sinister and serious form of trouble making . . . locking the outside doors, while I'm outside.

The first time it happened I was busily cleaning the garage, quite pleased with my productivity.  Brynn was fast asleep in her crib while Ty was going back and forth between the house and garage.  I looked at the clock and realized I needed to pick up Jer, so I attempted to rush inside, wake up Brynn, and then drive off.  My efforts were thwarted by the sickening immobility of the doorknob.  Ty had locked it.  My keys were on the counter inside the house, and I knew the windows were all locked.  I ended up climbing the block wall, praying that Jer and I were irresponsible the night before and forgot to lock our back entrance.  No luck!  I was panicked.  Do I break a window?  I couldn't call Jer because he didn't have access to the phone right then.  I called my neighbor in total stress wondering if she wanted to help me break in.  I was so antsy because I knew Brynn was inside and I couldn't wait for a locksmith.  Christine (my kind neighbor friend). suggested I call 311.  I balked -- this is a public emergency?  She assured me that it was because Brynn was unattended inside.  So, in complete humility and embarrassment, I called 311 who dispatched me to the local fire department.  In mere minutes four fine, strapping young men drove up in their yellow truck.  They hopped out and studied the upper windows, prepared to bring out the ladders.  However, before such measures were taken, the senior firefighter pulled out his credit card and swiped the lock, and, voila!  Success!  Seriously, suddenly I got the whole rescue-me complex -- I was eternally grateful and wanted to kiss them all!  I still think of them fondly and plan on delivering donuts to them within the week.  But I would like to apologize to all the Clark County taxpayers who funded my stupidity (never leave the house without keys!).

Alas, my joy was short-lived.  As I was buckling Brynn in the car seat a few days later, Ty locked me out AGAIN!!!!  He wanted a repeat of the previous drama?  I was quite smug, however, because I had the keys with me and knew I'd be able to get back in to grab my wallet.  As I sauntered towards the door, so pleased that I thwarted Ty's latest efforts, I realized I didn't have a house key on my key chain.  Seriously??????  I never remove keys, so I assumed Jer needed it and forgot to replace it.  Well, since my kids were accounted for and Jer was accessible, I didn't need to call the handsome firemen again (Whew!  Couldn't handle another round of humiliation).  My other handsome rescuer, Jer, had to leave work to help me out as the rest of us sweltered in the desert heat anxiously awaiting his arrival.

So here are the lessons I have learned:  hide a spare key in the garage, and Ty will always find a way to win.  My two year-old loves discovering new ways to infuriate me, and he's succeeding. But even after his naughtiness, he says the sweetest, "Sorry, Mommy!"  And then he counts to ten because he knows it makes me proud. :)  Since I'm a sucker for a "sincere" apology, all is forgiven.  I'm sure it's all a part of his strategy.  But this is an exhausting game we play!

And, for further enjoyment, here's a recent attempt to get all four kids in a photo.  It's the best I could do . . .