I take it all back!

Still glowing from my brave frog rescue, I woke up in the morning to my son trying to get out of his bedroom by shaking his door handle.  Before I could get to him, the inevitable happened, Z man locked himself in.  Trying to squelch my freak out from my daughter I ran around the house grabbing everything small I could stick in the hole of his doorknob.  Scissors = too big, earring = too small, pen  = just right but not long enough, so on and so forth.

E piped in with "Daddy always uses a Q-tip."  Always? This happens often? How was I not aware of that?

After a lot of 5 year old gibberish and stressed mom talk back and forth I figured out she meant a toothpick.  I got a box of toothpicks and ran back to Z's room. Granted I had tried to shove many things into that hole over the past 7 minutes, but really I had no idea what I supposed to do once I actually got something in there.

I stuck the toothpick in and jiggled it all around poking and prodding at things to no avail.  All the while I'm cursing Dan for being in Oslo, Norway because I could not pick up the phone to call him.  If he were on this side of the world he could at least make fun of sympathize with me while I was attempting to free Z man from what had now become (in my mind) a room full of dangerous, sharp, poisonous, menacing, choking hazardous, items.

There is clearly a God out there because he 1) gave us a child with a happy go lucky demeanor.  The entire time Z kept saying "Mom, you are so silly, open this door!" and unlike me he wasn't freaking out  and 2) God heard my inner panic (it is possible the neighbors heard it too, it was loud) and opened that door because I KNOW for a fact that it was not my clumsy fumbling of the toothpick that did it. (Vows to go to church more often)

So yes, I take back everything I said yesterday, I cannot live without the hubs.