On Friday night I decided to take the boys to eat dinner with Granny Meg. Saturday she would be heading back to Charleston for a while and she had bought them some clothes that she needed to give me (thank you, Mom) so after work we headed to her house.
We went inside and the boys started pulling out toys, opening drawers, throwing balls...the usual.
We decided on Sun-Ming for dinner and thought that we would just eat there instead of bringing it home. It was still early enough to beat the crowd which meant that few people's meal would be impacted by the boys' behavior.
I start piling the boys back in the car. Snapping them into car seats.
"Who has my keys"
John: "I do." (click, click, click....he is playing with the key fob.)
Andrew and John both start begging for tv....aaaaaackk, we are never going to get to dinner.
Me: "okay, okay, but I have to turn the car on for the movie to play, so let me have the keys."
I stick the keys in the ignition and turn it half-way, not actually cranking the car but allowing the DVD player to come on.
Elmo in, boys happy, Sun-Ming bound.
I get out of the back and shut the door.
Go to the driver door.
"You have GOT to be kidding me...MOOOOOOOOOOOM- I just locked the boys in the car."
We decided that John could probably get out of his car seat, so we start trying to talk him through it. He starts crying out of frustration within 3 minutes. We go around to Andrew's side of the car and try to talk him through unhooking his car seat. He won't even attempt it.
By this point John and Wyatt are both sobbing. My mom says that we need to call 911.
"911. What is your emergency?"
Me: "Well I am not sure if you consider this an emergency, but I just locked my keys in the car with my three kids in there."
"Okay, ma'am. Can one of them unlock the door?"
me: "Uh, no. I have tried that."
"Okay, ma'am. What are their ages?"
Me: "Two are two and one is one."
"Two two year olds and a one year old?"
Me: "Yes, I am serious."
"Okay ma'am, I am going to connect you to Pop-A-Lock"
ring, ring, ring, ring
"Pop-a-Lock, can I help you?"
I explain the situation.
"Okay, it is going to be over an hour. We have 12 people in front of you."
I am thinking "Doesn't having three kids locked in the car move me up in the line?", but I did not say anything.
The 911 operator speaks over the Pop-a-lock person and tells me he is dispatching the police department. He verifies the address and says the they will be there shortly. We hang up.
A couple minutes pass. All three boys are howling at this point.
My mom and I pace around the car trying to calm them down but we only make things worse.
Then we hear the sirens. Here come 2 firetrucks. Several firefighters pile out of the trucks. My mom's neighbors start coming out of their houses. The firemen shine spotlights on the car and start trying to get the door open.
John and Andy are wide-eyed in the backseat. Poor Wyatt is still sobbing.
It takes about 20 minutes, but they finally get in the car. I grab my P bear first; he is pouring sweat and tears.
The big boys just want to get out and see the firetrucks. They give the firemen hugs and high fives and thank yous.
My mom and I thank them all profusely. I forgot to ask their names.
All the neighbors go home, P stops crying, and we pile back in the car.
This time I hold the keys.