Locked Out

It had been a beautiful shopping trip to the mall.  Just me and my baby boy.  He was a joy and we had many special afternoons blowing an afternoon shopping away all our concerns and also all our nonexistent money.  It was a joyous beautiful time of my life.  It was pre-Dave Ramsey.  No guilt.  Me, my little man, and an umbrella stroller – rolling through life on a cloud of bliss.

JamesDeb2

(Notice my pink blogging chair in the background?  It was cool back then.  This vest, probably never cool.  YIKES!)

After a successful trip, we loaded our loot into the truck, yes, we had driven the mighty Ford Ranger.  I never drove the truck.  JP was loaded into his car seat, riding shot gun, telling me all about his views of life from the passenger seat.  We were like that; two buds, making the most of a warm sunny afternoon.

I shut the passenger door and walked around to get in the pilot side so we could go home and pretend this being a stay-at-home mom of one was so much work quick-like before Bill got home.  Crap.  I forgot to unlock that door.  Return to unlocked passenger side door.  Double crap.  It is locked too.  With my keys inside.

My keys are inside the locked truck.  With my one-year-old in there with them.  And it is sunny and getting hot.  And this was in the decade before I carried my life details in a mobile phone.  Me, in the parking lot, baby locked in truck, no phone.  Can’t leave him.  Can’t think of what to do.  That is the awesome kind of mom I was back before I became awesomer like now.  Wingin’ every day.  Thinkin’ on my feet.  (As in before I had my ADD mind under control and became someone organized enough to successfully finagle this thing called superwomanhood.)

Wondering how this story ends?  Some guy pulled up next to us in the parking lot.  He had a phone.  He let me use it.  I called Bill.  Bill laughed at me (or maybe he was slightly annoyed with the lack of got-it-together-ism of his wife, I donno) because I am such a wingnut and he came and opened the truck for me quick like before JP became a roasted toddler.  We drove home all happy.  Or something like that.  It didn’t leave too deep a scar, we went back and spent many more happy afternoons tossing pennies into the fountain and using the cool tiny toilet in the family restroom of that mall.  Man, I love those tiny toilets.

I still wonder how I managed to lock my kid in the truck.  Seriously.  These days, he locks me out on purpose once in a while.  Paybacks.

Mama's Losin' It

 

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Susan Castillo
    Sep 19, 2011 @ 14:44:53

    Glad to hear you are “awesomer” now. Great post!

    Reply

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