Murphy's Law

So let me tell you about what happened Tuesday. It's been too busy with Valentine's Day preparations and celebration (a gotta do since it's a fun holiday in mid-winter), to write about it until now.

I was running errands, most of them Valentine's related, and pulled into a parking lot. Of course I managed to pick the one spot where the very next person out of the store would need to get into the car right next to me, on Amelia's side. I had given her a fruit roll-up at the end of the last stop and she was sticky, so I pulled out a baby wipe for her hands before getting her out of her seat. Since someone was trying to get into his car, I shut the door momentarily to let him open his door. Do you see where this is going? My door locked.

The guy was all, "Is there anything I can do?" And with my laser eyes I said, "No, I don't think so," as my mind said, "I think you've done enough already, mister, just get out of here already."

My door wasn't even completely closed, just enough to have it latched. When I hit the lock button on my key fob when a door is still open, it won't lock until the door has been closed for a few seconds, so I usually hit that and then get Amelia out of the car so it will lock without me fumbling for my keys after I have her out. This minimizes the risk of my dropping her - something leftover from when she was an infant. She can stand now (obviously), but it's still easier to have it lock on its own rather than dealing with keys once I have a toddler free of her carseat. Or at least it's easier when I don't lock her in with the keys and their fob.

I looked around and two spaces over a guy in his early 50's was sitting in an auto parts truck and I walked over and asked him if he had anything that could open my car. He said he thought he had something at the store and he would make a call. Meanwhile I tried to see if Amelia could reach the unlock button, but she had no idea what I was talking about. A lady pulled up and immediately figured out what was going on and went in the store and asked if they had something. The auto parts guy said he'd be back in 10 minutes, but he wasn't very good at that sort of thing (unlocking doors). I started to dial 411 on my phone (I had my phone in my pocket, but not my keys) and was being transferred to a locksmith. The lady came out and said the store recommended calling the police. My gut told me the police were likely to respond faster and be more effective than the auto parts store. (And as the lady pointed out, he didn't seem to be in much of a hurry.)

Amelia was taking all of this in stride so far ... but as soon as she realized it wasn't a game, I was afraid she'd panic. She'd already asked me to open the door a few times, and we were playing a lot of peek-a-boo.

So after 14 minutes (guess who was counting), I heard sirens, and a fire truck pulls in. I was a little concerned for the store - I didn't want people to think the store was on fire. The fire truck didn't leave it's lights and sirens on, though, and while they parked near me, they didn't park close to the store, so I didn't have to keep worrying about a scene. Four guys jump out and I thought that was a bit much. One has a clipboard and is walking towards me, the other three, one of whom has a tool for getting into the car, are walking towards the driver side of the car and I briefly think of Tombstone with the three main characters walking in slow motion towards their victims.

Fireman Clipboard starts asking me a few questions, mostly my name and address, while the other three go to work. Fortunately, I don't have electronic locks (I had answered yes, assuming since they can all unlock at once they were, what a girl I am) and they were able to just use the wire tool to hook into the door handle and opened the door. Boy was I relieved!

Since I was in a different county from where I live and pay taxes I asked if I needed to pay anything. I was more than willing to - I just wanted someone to respond right away who knew what to do - but he assured me there was no fee. One of the Tombstone Three had trotted back to the firetruck and brought back two stickers and a temporary tattoo for Amelia, who was thrilled with such a great stash of unexpected stickers.

They were happy to help, efficient and friendly. They didn't linger at all except to make sure Amelia hadn't gotten cold. (She had taken her socks and shoes off as part of her self entertainment while we were waiting ... makes me look even more like mother of the year, I'm sure.)

Several minutes later I realized I didn't notice the number of their engine, which shows just how much of a panic I was in, allayed only by endless rounds of peek-a-boo. When you have to stay smiley for a child, it's hard to give into your panic. My dad was a volunteer firefighter growing up and I never see a fire engine and not notice its engine number. It was starting to bug me and then I noticed that one of Amelia's stickers had a picture of their actual engine ... No. 7.

I'm not ready for a mini-van or other vehicle with a sliding rather than opening door, but I think I'll do my best to park where Amelia's side will be on an island or other space that is not available for parking.

And hopefully the firefighters don't compare notes with social workers because if they do, I have only one strike left.