I've read news articles about young children who managed to escape from their houses or found themselves stuck in the most obscure places and other similar stories. I've always thought "what irresponsible parents, that would never happen to me" .... until yesterday.....
I had just returned from a regular supermarket shop. Parked on the drive, unlocked the front door, extracted LO from his car seat and plonked him on the door step - as usual. Walked 3 steps to the car to collect the shopping, heard a loud bang and turned round to find the front door closed with my 12 month old son inside the house. No matter, I had enough foresight to keep hold of the front door key so I calmly went to re-open the door, except it wouldn't open. It took a few seconds to realise that he had not only closed the door but twisted the bottom deadlock into place... he had locked me out.
Fortunately we have glass panes on our front door so I could see LO and gently called to him through the letterbox and tried to explain to him that he just needed to undo the bolt so mummy could come in.... he just needed to undo the bolt which he had only just locked, it was a simple and rational solution in my mind. But seriously, have you tried describing something like that to a 12 month old? Instead he scampered into the kitchen to chase after the cat.
At this point I jolted awake from the confused and sleepless state that I have grown so accustomed to over the last year and realisation dawned. I helplessly looked on at my son who was locked unattended in the house. Horrified I started to spot the hazards I'd left unattended as we hurried out earlier in the day - stair gate left open, toilet door left open, bucket full of water and floor cleaner left in the kitchen, an increasingly tetchy cat.
Sadly you can't rely on me in an emergency, I crumble and panic like hell. I kind of knew I needed to call 999 but needed someone to confirm so I called hubby instead (totally hysterical, rational thinking completely out of the window) who told me to get off the bloody phone and call the damned fire brigade.
Looking back I feel a bit sorry for the leafleteer whose untimely delivery to my door left them consoling me for the 10 minutes it took the fire brigade to arrive. It was also strange how all the residents in the street suddenly, at the very same time, had something they needed to do urgently in either their cars or front gardens.
Now by this stage LO realised he was on his own and stood right next to the door bawling. After a bit of deliberation the firemen decided the only way to get into the house was to knock the door down but LO needed to move away from the door first. Back to square one - trying to instruct a hysterical 12 month old to do something. The kindly fireman gave it a good shot "come on lad, go and sit over by the cat, go and sit at the bottom of the stairs". But LO was having none of it.
In the end they managed to break through the bolt anyway with no harm done to my son, we now just need to replace the door frame for £650. I'm thankful it ended well, I can't bring myself to think about what other terrible ways the sorry tale could have ended..
I'm sure I'm now the talk of the street, "what an irresponsible mother...., that would never happen to me."
Am I a dreadful mother and should social services be whisking my son away right now? Or do any other mums and dads have similar experiences they can share to make me feel better about myself?