Home » The Brain Trust (Plus A Pizza, A Peep, And Our Pets)

The Brain Trust (Plus A Pizza, A Peep, And Our Pets)

So at this point, thanks to my horrific posting regularity, I likely have about three readers left. . .and that’s only if I text the link to my own Mother.  Otherwise, she won’t read either.  . .Sigh.  I’m committing to getting back on track.  I AM.  Big thanks for hanging in there with me!

In the meantime, let’s talk about how it’s a good thing we’re at least pretty in these parts. . .Cause it’s becoming obvious, we’re not exactly Mensa material.

Mother came for a quick overnight visit a few weekends ago. We had a really nice time, good weather. . .

But that’s not the point of this post.

Along with Mother came Stepfather.

What you need to know about Stepfather is he spent a lot of years working in a maximum security prison.  And as you might imagine, this left quite an um impression upon him.

So he’s ALWAYS making sure things are secure.  Like “your car isn’t locked.”  “Why don’t you have the deadbolt locked?”  If you watch him for even just a few minutes you’re bound to catch him testing a door knob.

It’s overkill and we mock him relentlessly about it, but it’s also understandable given the sorts of folks he’s encountered.

When he comes to visit, I try to take extra care to explain to him that the exterior door in the guest room is set up in a way that the deadbolt can only be locked from inside or outside via KEY.

It’s set up this way so that when I run out the door to quickly take out trash or water plants, I do NOT have to worry about locking myself out.

BUT the deadbolt is not the only lock on this door.  There is also one of those kinda’ worthless little door knob locks – which is to remain unlocked at all times.

I’m sure by now you see where this is headed. . .

I stupidly neglected to remind the parents NOT TO EFF WITH MY DOORKNOB during their visit.

And I’m pretty sure they did. . .

Because when I took the trash out the day after they left, I LOCKED MYSELF OUT.

I locked myself out at 5:06PM.  Mac on the loose in the house, uncovered, fully cooked pizza completely vulnerable to bastard cats and Satan’s Lap Hound, poor Teddy half-asleep in his little cradle-seat-thing in the kitchen.

Oh, I also locked myself out without a cell phone.  Because as attached as I am to that sucker, I don’t usually take it with me when I’m taking out the trash and cleaning up dog poop.

Anyway, since I have no contingency plan for this sort of debacle, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do next.

Go to a neighbor to use their phone?  Who would I call?  Chris was likely in the car and wouldn’t answer the phone.  Call the dog walker?  

WHAT?

Since I couldn’t see in the back window, I decided I’d mosey around to the front of the house and look in the front window.

I peeked in and first witnessed Mac leaning over Teddy in the seat.  Please don’t wail on him, please don’t wail on him.  Please if he’s asleep, don’t get him awake. . .

Then I proceeded to watch Mac take the marshmallow peep I had given him as a special treat for reading quietly while I did a few chores, and drag it all over the appliances, the desk, and pretend it was riding atop of a little decorative pig that lives on the desk.  Well, this explains why everything is ALWAYS sticky. . .And perhaps why he’s not doing AP math yet. . .

What time is it?!  Where’s Chris?

I was just about to sit down on our front steps when Mac spotted me!

He raced to the front window, and threw his fists at it.  “Mommy!  Mommy!” he shouted banging on the window.

“Calm down, Mac!  It’s ok.  Mommy is just going to be out here for a few minutes.”

I tried to hide but he moved to a different vantage point, “Mommy!  Mom-eeeeeeeeeeee!”

“Mac, don’t beat on the window.  If I see you bang on that window again, there will be a consequence.  Do you hear me?  I’ll. . .”

I’ll what?  I’m locked out.

JEBUZFUKSONOFANUGGET!!  I AM LOCKED OUT!  FOR WHO KNOWS HOW LONG?!

“Mac!  Mac! MAC!!!  Please stop.  Show Mommy a Lego Man.  Where’s that guy with the orange hat?  Find him.  I want to see him.”

“Mooooooommmmmmm-eeeeeeee!  All done with outside Mooooommmmeeee!” He wailed throwing his body against the window.

I could see the glass give slightly.

I decided my best course of action was to kinda’ ignore Mac.  So I sat down on the front steps and stared straight ahead.

Our neighbor arrived home from work.  “Oh, are we playing a game called Locked Out this afternoon?” He chuckled.

“That would be funny if it weren’t true.” I mumbled back at him.

He gasped.  “What’s the worst case scenario?”

“He puts himself through that window.” I said gesturing towards Mac who was staring at us intently, body fully pressed against the window, pig-nosed, mouth open, cheeks puffer fish-style against the window.

“Oh God,” gasped the neighbor again, “I meant how long until Chris gets home?”

I shrugged and glanced back at Mac who was glaring at us through squinty eyes and tracing his fully extended tongue over the glass (presumably where he had previously drug the marshmallow Peep).

I’m going to be the recipient of a “My Kid Can Beat Up Your Honor Student” bumper sticker aren’t I?  

The neighbor took one more sideways glance at Mac, “Good luck,” he said making a hasty departure into his house.

I returned to my spot on the steps, essentially ignoring Mac.  If traffic was bad, Chris could be pretty late getting home.  If Teddy  started crying uncontrollably, there was little doubt Mac would clock him.  (Who knew how many times without intervention?)

The fastest solution to this situation was both remarkably simple and ghastly complicated:  I could talk Mac through the process of opening the front door for me.    

As best as I could tell, until this very moment, Mac either didn’t know how to open the front door or at least he hadn’t tried. . .And if I showed him how to do it now, I’d have to forever remember that Mac could open the door whenever he damned well pleased. . .

But f I didn’t show him, Teddy could be in danger. . .

Oh, why must I choose?!

Turns out, I didn’t have to. . .

I did indeed attempt to show Mac how to operate the front door.  But he just glared at me, tongue pressed against the window, refusing to budge until Chris arrived home about 10 minutes later.

And about that Peep?  Somehow in all the commotion, that weasel-dog, Satan’s Lap Hound managed to smartly abscond with it. . . .Which, sadly speaks volumes about the mental prowess of this entire bunch. . .

EXCEPT, had it not been for that adorable hunk of sugar-coated marshmallow, the dog would have likely eaten the entire pizza.  . .

So MAYBE, just maybe, I’m not a complete dimwit?

(Except, of course, I have no idea whether the cats licked the pizza.  And yes, we ate it anyway.)

If you need me, I’ll just be here waiting for my call from Mensa. . .