Well, it only took 6 years, 6 months and 27 days, but yesterday we finally got to confront one of those things that eventually must happen to all parents and children: Oliver and I found ourselves on opposite sides of a locked washroom door.
When Oliver announced that he had to pee, I figured that, familiar as he was with Kenny and Winnie’s washroom — turn on the chicken light, shut the door, and don’t forget to flush and wash your hands — he could go it alone.
As on an earlier visit Oliver had completed all of the above but with the door wide open, I reminded him to shut the door. Therein sowing the seeds of our undoing.
It didn’t take very long for Oliver to realize that he’d locked himself in — we heard tentative shrieks of terror after only a few minutes. After an vain attempt to talk Oliver through the unlocking process, Winnie generously came to our assistance with a kitchen knife and engaged the special override mode of the lock and Oliver was freed.
With this episode over (and Oliver now thoroughly schooled in the arts of unlocking the door from the inside) I’m now free to obsess about “Oliver falling down a well,” “Oliver stranded on an ice floe” and “Oliver taking the car for a ride at age 7.”