Locked Out

I read an interesting survey question on John Sherck's blog that I decided to answer here, instead of in his comment box.

He asked readers to describe one time when they were locked out of the house. I've been locked out a time or two, but one incident stands out in my mind.

After my divorce, I'd moved back in with my father temporarily until I could get back on my feet. It was also helpful for me to have someone to help care for my then toddler son. Not too long after I'd moved in with him, my father remarried, after several years of being a widower, so there were four of us sharing the house.

One cold December Sunday, my father and his new wife decided to take a long drive to visit some friends of hers. They planned to be gone all afternoon, so I was just going to stay home and veg out with my son in front of the TV.

Not long after they left, I pulled the garbage bag out of the kitchen garbage can and took it out to the garage to throw into the larger can there. My son tagged behind me as I did this.

But as soon as I'd shut the door from the house into the garage, my son came behind me and locked the door, not really knowing what he was doing. It was a cold December day, with temperatures in the 30s, but I was only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and was barefooted, as the house was heated nicely.

I could hear that he was still right by the door on the other side, so I tried to get him to unlock the door, even explaining to him how to do so. But reasoning with a two-year old is doomed from the start, so I was trapped outside.

I knew that my father would not be home for hours, so waiting in the freezing garage until he returned was not an option. The idea of leaving my toddler son totally unsupervised inside in the house for all that time was also not going to fly.

None of the neighbors had a spare key, so I was on my own. It was also before the days of cell phones, so calling my father to come back home was not an option.

The only option was to try to break down the door. After warning my son to stand back from the door, I slammed my left shoulder into the door, just above where the knob was. It took three tries, but after the third slam, I heard the doorframe crack, then the door gave way.

My son ran off as soon as this happened knowing he'd done wrong. When my father returned hours later to find the broken door, he was not angry, realizing there was nothing else I could have done.

Let's hear about a time you were locked out.