Last night I was hosting a Bunco night at our house. Andy got home just in time as the girls started to arrive. After the kids made their presence known, Andy took the kids upstairs to start the bedtime routine. Us girls got down to the business of gabbing and pouring the wine.
All was quiet upstairs and I was quite impressed by Andy's knack for calming the crazy that had overtaken the downstairs just moments before.
After about thirty minutes I hear this HUGE LOUD banging coming from upstairs leading me to believe for a second that I was either A: finally experiencing my first earthquake or that B; our house was falling apart.
Every Bunco lady went silent and looked at me.
I looked upstairs and excused myself to go see what was was the heck was going on.
I thought I heard them all crying in Graham's room.
I opened the door, and Andy gave me a look like, "ITS ABOUT FREAKIN" TIME".
You see, Graham had locked all THREE of them in his room.
How could this happen?
Oh, because we being the responsible parents that we are turned the knob to his room around so that is locks from the outside....IN THEORY.
But Graham had somehow punched the lock and then closed the door....with all three inside.
And us girls were having a grand ol' time downstairs and hadn't heard the cries for help (from all three) or the window open from upstairs and Andy attempt to yell and throw stuff down to get my attention.
Well I assured him that this was such a blessing to have happened when I was home (paying attention or not) instead of during the week at 8am with no one to rescue us while Andy was at work.
Can you imagine?
So yes, the rescue "key"is back in place above the door
because I'm sure these stinkers will give me reason to use it in the near future.