*I buckle Claire into her car seat and carry her to the door.
*I put Titan's shoes on.
*We all four gather at the front door.
*I ask Derek if he has the keys.
*He says "They're in my pocket."
*I manually lock the bottom lock and shut the door behind me once our small herd of cattle makes its way through the door jamb.
*Derek locks the dead bolt.
*We head to the car.
Like I said, this is the routine EVERY SINGLE TIME. Even the "they're in my pocket" comment about our keys. After nearly four years of marriage, I've learned that if I am missing ANYTHING, it is most likely in one of the 27 pockets on Derek's cargo shorts.
Well, today our routine got a little out of whack. We got to the part where we were all gathered in front of the door, and then me...assuming the keys were in Derek's pocket (and why wouldn't I), manually locked the bottom lock and shut the door behind me. As it is swinging shut, his big eyes look at me and then we hear, "Click". The door closed. He shoved his hands into his pockets and said, "I don't have the keys." My eyes widened and then went back to normal thinking that my silly jokester of a husband was trickin me. No trick. The keys were, indeed, on the dang key rack. So not only could we not get back inside, we couldn't get into our car either, since the keys are all on one keyring. Luckily, I brought our "survival kit". Also known as frozen Otter Pops (A pink one for me, a red one for Derek and an orange one for Titan.), a Sobe bottle full of ice water, and a Cars 2 sippy cup full of White Grape Juice for Titan. Turned out handy, having some things to cool us down in the 109* weather that rose to 111* within minutes. With beads of sweat dripping down Derek's forehead, Claire making a fuss in her carseat (already. Not even in that seat for 7 minutes and she's bugged.) and Titan sitting in the rocks throwing things into a bush, we whipped out our trusty ole Fry's Grocery Store V.I.P card and tried swiping it over the lock to pop it open. Yeah, that was harder than it seemed. Then we pulled two bobby pins out of my hair, straightened them, and like criminals tried to strategically hit all the right parts of the lock to make it open. (Note: it is also harder than it seems and no amount of crime-related TV show watching will help you out on the matter.) I told Derek, "Hey, I think I know how to pick a lock. I remember it somehow. I think I did it in another life one time, maybe." That's when he stared at me and I could almost hear that awkward "crickets chirping" noise you hear in movies. Then I said, "Wait. I know it can be done. Because Tai Lung does it in Kung Fu Panda and he does it with a feather. He breaks out of his hand cuffs". Then I realized that is anything but real life. But, it it were real, I'd better be able to break into my house if a tiger can break out of handcuffs.
After all that crazy jazz outside, and wondering how many of our neighbors started making popcorn and pulled up chairs at their front windows to watch us try breaking into our own house, we had an idea. Derek said he was *pretty* sure he could bust into our house by kicking the door in. It didn't sound wise to me. I didn't want to pay out the nose for a new door. But our landlords live in China (not really, but they live about an hour from us) and it was only gettin hotter outside. I said go ahead. But go easy! So he kicked the door in, taking off the entire left side of the door jamb and the paint, and the bottom lock guard, and screws and all that nifty stuff. I thought he was pretty bad A, except that now our door is wrecked.
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