Panic

Mornings are not a Murphy-friendly time. We tend to run late, due to whatever is happening-Ian not wanting to get up or get dressed in timely manner or Connor not wanting to get his jacket on or Tom waking up late or me trying to make breakfast, make lunch, pack bags, pack the car and remember to eat breakfast.

This morning, Connor slept until 7:20am, through a deluge of rain and allowing me to have a quiet shower and get the dishwasher unloaded before breakfast. Ian got dressed without too much commotion and was pleasant to deal with, so of course you know that things are going much too smoothly.

Tom leaves for school and because I tend to have a guitar and several bags of school stuff and the boys backpack, I went in the garage to put my belongings in the car before getting the boys into the car. Ian followed me into the garage and we get everything situated quickly. We just need to get Connor.

And the door back into the house is now locked.

Connor is on the other side, talking to me and calling me. I knock on the door and plead with him to open the door. (no, I didn't have my keys-they were in the house) He clearly doesn't understand what I am asking him to do, as he first begins knocking back on the door. Then sensing my urgency, begins to cry. And then wail. I give up trying to coerce him to open the door and struggle between anger and panic.

Ian, ever the righteous brother, gives a monologue on what Connor did and why it is wrong-through the door. Meanwhile, I am not exactly certain where Tom hid the spare house key. I run around to the back door, which Connor does know how to unlock. I pound on the back door for him to unlock the door, but I can see him rolling on the floor by the washing machine, screaming as he probably thinks we have now left him behind. Or more likely from listening to Ian lecture him.

Thankfully and before I start to smash windows or find a neighbor, I remember that I left a key hidden a few weeks earlier and hoped that I hadn't moved it. It was still there and I ran around to the garage to open the house door.

Now Connor is at the back door, looking for me as he has finally figured out that I was at that door waiting for him. He is practically purple and heaving with alligator tears, so I scoop him up and sit with him for a moment. Then, we get into the car-with keys-with Connor- and we are now running ten minutes late.

Lesson: I need to carry keys with me. I need to teach Connor not to lock me out. I need to know where the spare keys are kept. I need to react a little more calmly so that Connor doesn't panic. I also need to laugh because it's a pretty good story.