One evening I was on the phone with my mom while we waited for Art to come home. George and I were playing peekaboo. He would shut his bedroom door and we would open it. It was a fun game, lots of laughter and squealing until.....he locked the door.
We haven't changed the knobs on the bedrooms or bathroom since we moved it. They have these lovely key locks. We do not own the keys for these locks.
George has grown enough recently to reach the knobs and turn them. I noticed one morning he was trying to turn the lock on the door. I thought oh we should change those knobs and then quickly went about my day. Well that night he locked himself in his room.
I called my dad to ask him what I should do. There wasn't a place to unscrew the knob, I tried a credit card, asked George to open the door, knife, bobby pin....nothing was working. During this whole thing George is yelling DA DA. My dad was laughing when we were on the phone because he could hear him yelling. It was like just go get da da he will get me out of this room.
Around 20 minutes into him being locked in his room he started to whine. I put my hand under the door and told him it would be ok. He stuck his hand out to hold mine. I sung songs to him when he got upset while I was working on different things.
I ran next door to our neighbors to see if he was home. Knocked on the door numerous times, but no one came to the door. Ran back into the house and about this time George was starting to cry hard. I then took a hammer to the door knob. Knocked the thing off. I thought if I knocked it off I could stick a screw drive through it to push it off on the other side or loosen it up, so I could get George out. Oh no! The knob came off, but the rest of it wouldn't budge.
Around this time I text my cousin Liz. She had the wonderful suggested I call the fire department. huh? Didn't even think of that. Later I was like why in the world didn't I think to call them? Well sometimes my brain reverts back to the farm days. The fire department was only available for fires. There were no firemen at the station. They would leave their jobs or homes and rush to the fire house, grab the truck and go to the fire.
The fire department showed up within 10 minutes. A VERY long 10 minutes. I had told them this wasn't an emergency, George was safe, but we just needed to get them out. I didn't want them rushing over here with their siren on. They ended up taking a saw the entire door knob off the door. There were sparks flying as they sawed through the metal. George was SCREAMING from the noise.
When the door opened George had BIG eyes when there were 3 firemen standing there. I grabbed him and gave him a hug. Through all this I just kept laughing. I couldn't believe this was happening. When the firemen were on the way I called Art to tell him what was happening. I could just see him coming home to a fire truck outside the door with their lights on. He would be panicked. Thankfully he found the whole thing just as amusing as me. We had a good laugh.
When Art came in the house, George was babbling away to him, took him into his room and showed him the door. Hilarious!
I did a nice number on the knob huh?
After the firemen left I then thought why didn't I take pictures of them sawing the knob off! George needed those pictures for his scrapbook.
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