McMommy, MacGyver, and a Credit Card.

I had a date with a friend early this morning to go clean out a PTO closet at school. My mom came over to watch the kids for me, and as I was stepping out the door, I heard a scuffle.
Then Carter scream.

But a different kind of scream, you know?
The one that makes a mother's ears go up.
The kind that makes her say "Ruh-roh."

I turn around and head down the hallway.
Only Matthew is standing there.

"Where's Carter?"

Silence.

"I SAID, WHERE IS YOUR BROTHER?"

He points to Carter's room.
The door is shut.
I go to open it....

...and it is locked.

"YOU LOCKED YOUR BROTHER IN HIS ROOM?!?!?!?!?!"

And from the other side of the door I hear Carter say "Mommy, peas open door. Peas."

I immediately started trying to sweet talk him into turning the lock, which was fruitless. I tried everything I could to open the lock....paperclips, barbecue skewers, screwdrivers, etc....all to no avail.
Yeah, you never have to worry about me ever breaking into your home.

While I called my husband for advice on how to get the lock open, my mother called my father. Who upon hearing his precious grandson was locked in a room, FLEW over to my house.

Carter hears Grandpa through the door and says in his tiny voice:
"Bam-pa, I need help!"

Which apparently was all my dad needed to hear to make him morph into MacGyver.

"I need some aluminum foil, a bubble gum wrapper, and the cork from a bottle of a South American Malbec! NOW!"

After trying everything to get this lock open, even trying to pry the handle off....nothing was working.

So I called 9-1-1.

"911, what's your emergency?"
"Uh hi. My 2 year old son is locked in his bedroom."
"How long has he been in there?"
"About 15 minutes."
"Are you talking to him? Is he responding to you?"
"Yes."
"Is the room baby-proof? Is he safe?"
"Um, I think so."
"Ok, the fire department will be there soon."
"Wait a second...Aren't you going to stay on the phone with me until they get here?"
"Um, no. I think you've got the situation handled."
"Oh. Right. Well, ok. Have a good day, then."

I thought I did a good job of staying calm on the phone.
But maybe I was a little too calm?
Because isn't the 911 lady supposed to have a warm, soothing voice telling me everything is going to be ok?!
Isn't she supposed to stay on the phone with me, giving me helpful advice on what to do until help arrives?!!!
Mental note to self: If there is a next time, get more hysterical.


While waiting for the truck to arrive, things started to happen.

MacGyver starts yelling "Get me a credit card! I need a credit card!"


And the rest of Carter's rescue will be documented for you in pictures, thanks to my mother. (She proved she was the mother of a blogger, for sure, when she quietly picked up the camera and started snapping away...)



Credit cards: Apparently Not Just For Buying That
New Pair of Shoes.



The aftermath of tools. You can even see paint chips on the floor from
trying so hard to get that door handle off.

MacGyver telling the fire department: "Chill out. I got this."



Me, on the phone with McDaddy after everything was over.

Yes, I might have been shedding a tear or two.

But only because I was re-counting the horrid story of how the 9-1-1 lady abandoned me in my time of need.

Ok, fine....and MAYBE a little because I knew Carter was finally safe and wasn't going to have to survive on diaper rash cream and old cracker crumbs on the floor of his room.