Desitin and Power Locks

The highlight of my day was not walking into the living room to find a baby, naked, covered from his belly button to his knees in Desitin.

"Irelynn...what are you doing?!"

"Connor needed butt paste. You're welcome."

Nor was it that Owen has discovered that if he rolls far enough across the living room floor, he can chew on his father's laptop cords.

It was not even walking to the back bathroom to discover that one of the older children had clogged the toilet...again.

No, the highlight of my day came later that morning, when after much pleading, and the dazzling smile that only a toddler can give, I decided to let Irelynn play outside. The babies would not go down for a nap, so I placed Owen in an old bouncy seat, and Connor in his infant carrier...and set them out on the front porch so that Irelynn could blow bubbles in the driveway.

Now, let me pre-empt this by saying that we recently bought a new (used) car. It is black. It has a moon roof. It looks very interesting to a 3-year-old.

Irelynn kept making comments about the new car. She said she wanted to drive it. She called it a "spy car." I thought it was cute. I clutched my coffee in one hand, took turns rocking Connor and Owen with the other, and held a phone between my ear and shoulder as I spoke to my mom, describing the coolness that is the new car. Owen was not so amused. I decided it was probably time to go in. I opened the door to put Owen inside, came back out to grab Connor and Irelynn when I discovered that Irelynn was not in the driveway blowing bubbles. She was inside the car.

Now, you would think it would hit me at this time that this could be a problem. But I was still chatting away on the phone...telling my mother how cute it was that Irelynn was sitting inside the car. Then I went to open the car door. It was locked. All of the doors were locked. Irelynn grinned at me through the window and waved. The panic set in. There is only one key to this car...and the last I remembered, Bruce had it. Bruce was at work.

I inform my mother that I needed to call her back. I call Bruce, and as luck would have it...he had left it on his dresser instead of putting it on his key ring. I sprinted through the house...setting Connor on the floor...barreling past a screaming Owen...and grabbed the key. I got outside and unlocked the door as Irelynn vaulted over the seat into the back.

"Don't Mom!"

I carried her, kicking and screaming, into the house.

She asked me later that day if she could "drive the car." I don't think so, kid.

The good news is, Connor is now rash-free...the laptop no longer clutters the living room floor...and our vehicles now remain locked so as to keep out both criminals and toddlers. If only I could get the older child to flush the toilet...we'd be all set.