The Key to Proper Parenting
I hope my wife is journaling all the stories she tells when I come
home in the evenings. I mean, things like The Key Incident just
shouldn't go undocumented...
It happened shortly after Sarah emerged from a toy store with our
boys, ages 2 and 1. She first put Joseph, our youngest, in the
car. Then, in the time it took her to move around to the other
side of the car, Joseph locked all of the car doors, using the remote
on the set of keys given him by his mother, her only set.
Let me back up here and explain that my wife is perhaps the most
cautious mother on the planet. I know this may sound like a bit
of a stretch since, you know, she recently gave our little baby the
keys to the car, but trust me, it's true. Recently, when I tried
to argue that a responsible, grown man should be allowed to leave his
children in the car while ducking into a convenience store door within
five feet of the car, she threw a knife at my head. And when I
ducked the knife she nailed me in the sternum with a packet of divorce
papers, kicked me in both shins, and said many mean things that led me
to believe I was "on my own" that evening.
So within a few feet (and plain sight) of the busiest street in our
town stood the cautious and loving Sarah, holding her two year-old
and frantically pleading through a window with a boy who just recently
turned one. Both boys enjoyed the commotion immensely, of course,
but Sarah was in a pickle. Should she run into the store, thereby
breaking one of the most cardinal rules of parenthood? Should she
draw a picture of the "unlock" icon on the window in crayon, hoping
Joseph would press the corresponding button on the remote? Should
she let our oldest son break the window with one of his famous head butts?
Eventually she was saved by the little one, who not only hit the
"unlock" button, but was kind enough to hit it twice to unlock all the
doors. She then recovered the keys, buckled up our boys, and
breathed a sigh of relief.
Then she came home and told me the story, under one condition: That I wouldn't blog it.
But I’m stuck in Iowa this week, and I miss my family like crazy.
(Plus, Sarah can’t hit me with a knife from here.)