Project Gratitude: Day 15

We had quite the afternoon today. When I was elbow-deep into making dinner, one of my girls (who shall remain un-named) timidly told me that she locked her brother into my room because he was getting into her stuff. This wouldn't be such a big deal, except that we don't have a key to open that door. It was getting dark outside, and there weren't any lights on inside the room.

Henrik had already been having a hard day today. He had a hard time falling asleep at naptime, and when he woke up from his nap he was crying--something he hardly ever does. When I got him out of his crib, he just wanted me to hold and rock him. It was sweet for me, but I felt bad he wasn't very happy.

Tonight when my daughter realized the seriousness of what she had done to her brother, she began to try to unlock the door with anything she could find--Halloween fangs, hair clips, belt buckle prongs... I admired the effort, especially when she made the comment to me, "What's more important--my hair clip or my brother?" as she bent and distorted the objects she was using on the lock. We called to Henrik, knocked on the door, and pleaded with him to come and try to unlock the door. We heard him playing around with things and then closing the closet doors. He offered a "I coming!" a few times, but never actually came to the door. Then we heard him banging on the closet door--he had closed himself in and couldn't get out! It didn't take too long after that before I began to panic. I tried calling Eric, but he wasn't in his office. I hoped that he was on his way home already. He called me a few minutes later saying he was in the lab and would be on his way home soon. As I impatiently waited for him to come home, Ollie was fussing. His diaper had leaked, and all of his clothes were in my room. I took a blanket from Henrik's room to wrap him in and was able to get him to sleep.

In the meantime we kept trying to talk to Henrik, but he was stuck in that closet, and there wasn't any hope of his getting out himself. Eric came home and tried fiddling with the doorknob, but to no avail. He stopped and said we needed to say a prayer. I can't believe I didn't think to do it before. Eric said a prayer, and then he asked me to call our landlord to see if he happened to have a key to the door. I called him, and even though he said he didn't have a key, he said he would come right over and see if he could pry open the door. He came in a matter of minutes, and after taking off a piece of the door frame, he and Eric were able to pry open the door. Henrik had been crying and crying. We all hugged and held him, and in no time he was running around smiling again.

I am grateful for answered prayers.