As I walked up the sidewalk towards the house, my heart dropped. Two large boxes waited just in front of our door. I glanced inside: the lights were off. I dropped my things on the front porch and, although I was fairly sure I already knew what I would find, dug through all the pockets of my purse: nothing. Just in case, I checked my backpack. Not there either. Finally, I walked back to the driveway, opened the passenger door and checked in the glove compartment. Still nothing. I could hear the dog pawing at the door, but there was nothing I could do about it: I was locked out.
The thing is, that after years of relative stability, lately Mr. 13 has been losing things. Notably, his house key. Because he is often the first one home in the afternoon, I loaned him my key. Then he found his key and gave mine back – but then he lost his again. Then things got complicated. Somehow or another, I realized earlier this week that I no longer had either my key or my back-up key. At the time, I thought, “I should really take care of this now,” but of course I didn’t. And here I was now, keyless.
I left my things on the porch and walked over to Mike’s because he has a spare key. He wasn’t home.
So I walked back to our front porch and texted Mr. 15. “Are you near home? I’m locked out.” Since Mr. 15 pretty much always has his notifications silenced, so I didn’t get my hopes up. I told myself that we were lucky it was such a beautiful day; just a week ago, I would have been freezing while I waited. I tried to be happy that my children were off with their friends rather than inside online.
After a few minutes with no response, I texted Andre to see if maybe – maybe – he was finishing up work early before the long weekend. Nothing.
Finally, I sat down on the front steps and texted my friend. (Yes, a fair number of people have extra keys. Our house is pretty friendly.) We were heading to the gym soon anyway, so I figured maybe she could come a bit early.
She replied immediately and agreed to come by in a few minutes. The dog was pretty unhappy about me sitting on the porch without him, but there was nothing I could do. I checked my email and waited until she arrived, tossed me the keys, and went to park. I gathered my things, moved the boxes to the side of the front door, and put the key in the lock.
Wait. The door wasn’t locked. That was odd. I pushed the door open to discover that BOTH OF MY CHILDREN WERE HOME. Both of them. One was on the computer; the other was in the kitchen *on the phone I had just texted*.
“Did you not see me?” I asked. “Did you not notice the dog at the door?”
They looked at me, perplexed. No and no.
“Did you not notice that I texted? Did you not hear the delivery guy who left the boxes?”
Nope. Not at all.
Mr. 15 said, “I mean, why didn’t you just open the door?”
I looked at the large boxes, the excited dog, the dark house and my two clueless children. “Well,” I said, “I thought I was locked out.”
![](https://persistenceandpedagogy.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/31-day-streak-with-border.jpeg?w=1024)