Knock, knock. Who's there? Mommy.

It's interesting and at times, unfortunate, that as a toddler develops, he often acquires certain skills that get him into quite a predicament several weeks or even months before he develops the necessary skill to get himself out of said predicament. Climbing up? Much easier than climbing back down. Closing the door? Much easier than opening the door. Locking said door? Much easier than unlocking said door. A month or so ago while I was putting Helena down for a nap Hudson managed to get stuck in the bathroom. He closed the door then opened the drawer right next to the door. The door, unfortunately, opens inward, or, I should say, opens inward if there is not a drawer pulled out in front of it. It took me a minute to realize our predicament. "Hudson, can you close the drawer buddy?" Silence. "Hudson, it's mommy. CLOSE the DRAWER." More silence. The door would only open about an inch so I couldn't actually see anything and I started to get a mite concerned, remembering stories of toddlers drowning in toilets etc. etc. I get a little screechy. "HUDSON YOU NEED TO TALK TO MOMMY CAN YOU HEAR ME!?" Tiny little voice says, "Yes ma'am." Okay, not face down in the toilet. At this point the husband gets home from work (nothing says Welcome Home Honey like a small child trapped in the bathroom) and takes over. It's funny how the phrase "close the drawer" sounds kind of like "knock on the door". The husband would say Hudson, CLOSE the DRAWER and Hudson, obedient boy that he is would quietly knock on the door. This went on for about 30 minutes while the husband tried several different feats of kitchen utensil engineering/McGyver tricks to get the drawer closed. Nothing worked so he ended up having to force the door open which broke the drawer but not the door. As soon as he got out we played a little game we like to call This Is How To CLOSE a Drawer.

So I tell you that little anecdote because I am fond of foreshadowing. Harper has been really into bugs the last couple of weeks. Mostly rolly-polies, but we also have two June bugs and a lovely collection of slugs and snails courtesy of our friends Izzy and Abby. She loves these bugs with an ardor that will hopefully someday be bestowed upon an actual pet (today she found 6 cents on the floor and when I told her she could keep it she said she wanted to take it to church and give it to someone who needed it. Someone who maybe needed to buy a puppy for their children. Sweet. Sad, but sweet) and she tends to them and mothers them all day long. So this morning she found another rolly-poly to add to the squirming mass she already has. She noticed that the leaf she had in there was almost gone and suggested she needed to go out on our patio and retrieve another. Our patio is, thanks to the deluge this week, mosquito infested so I told her I would quickly go out and grab one. She agreed and said she needed to go to the bathroom. Helena was waking up from her morning nap as I stepped out. Hudson was watching "Sesame Street." I closed the door carefully so that no mosquitoes would get in and bent down to find a dead leaf because I read that the rolly polies prefer the decaying vegetation to the green stuff. Just as I was standing back up and had my hand on the door knob I see Hudson standing there with one thumb in his mouth and his other hand...click. That's right. Click. He looked pleased. I am locked on the patio. In my pajamas. And the only child inside the house capable of UNlocking the lock is sitting on the toilet waiting for me to wipe her bottom. Hudson has wandered back to "Sesame Street" because Mommy on the Patio is not as compelling, apparently, as Pets on Elmo's World. So I start knocking to get his attention. He comes back to the door, smiles sweetly, and knocks back. "Turn the LOCK Hudson! The L-L-LOCK!" Another sweet smile. Another knock. I realize the futility and decide that getting Harper to come is probably my only hope. So I go to the window closest to the bathroom and try to yell as quietly as possible because we live in an apartment complex and have 100 or so neighbors who might have still been asleep. "HARPER! IT'S MOMMY AND I'M OUTSIDE AND I NEED YOU TO GET OFF THE POTTY--IT'S OKAY TO WIPE YOURSELF THIS ONCE--AND COME HELP MOMMY! HARPER! GET OFF THE POTTY AND COME HERE!" This went on for around 10 minutes, during which I could hear Harper chanting, "Mommy! I'm finished! I'm ready to get off the potty!" Finally she realized that something was amiss, came wandering out, and unlocked the door. I got poor Helena who had worked herself into quite a frenzy, made sure Harper washed her hands, and sat down to the dulcet strains of "Pets, pets, pets! Pets, pets, pets! Pets, pets, pets, pets, pets! That's Elmo's world!"