Sunday, 17 October 2010

Just a regular Monday morning.

As any busy working mum knows, the mornings spent deliberating over the perfect accessory for your outfit and a leisurely breakfast whilst catching up on the world news, went out of the window in the delivery room. More than likely we are to be found grabbing the nearest items of clothing that vaguely go together then pushing the hoover round, whilst mentally writing a shopping list for the lunchtime supermarket sweep.

So, not unusually on a sunny Monday morning, I was dressed and ready for work and about to hang two loads of washing on the line. With eldest child already packed off to school, I shouted up to youngest child to hurry up and brush teeth, hair, find shoes and get school bag together while I made my way to the washing line at the end of the garden. After an almost enjoyable fifteen minutes in the morning sunshine hanging out the smalls, I called upstairs to find out how the preparations were going. I could hear hysterical crying getting louder as I ran upstairs. The sound was coming from my bedroom, but when I pushed the door it was locked shut. Except I don't have a lock on my bedroom door. The little voice inside had obviously been calling and calling and sobbing for ages while I was outside and she explained how she'd gone in to use my hairbrush, pushed the door extra tightly shut to keep the cat off my bed (good girl) but in the process it had jammed solid.

Telling little one to stand back, don't worry, mummy will get you out (yeah, right), I first tried a screwdriver to prise the ball on the lock. No joy. I then put my not inconsiderable weight into it by slamming my shoulder against the door but it would not budge. Whilst the thought of firemen having to be called to get her out was not the most unpleasant prospect, being late for work was, so I had to come up with a plan. And fast.

I have a scared, trapped child and the clock is ticking...  there was nothing for it. Taking off my heels, I sat down on a low chest of draws on the landing, and putting all my faith in my gluteus maximus, used both feet to kick the door in. The look on little one's face when the door flew open and I was still in the prone position was hilarious. Her fear disappeared immediately and she burst out laughing. I hugged her and established she was ok, then hurried her off to finish getting ready - she'd not even brushed her hair whilst trapped in there, of course.

As I adjusted clothing and got ready to leave for work again, she turned to me and said "mummy, you looked just like kung-fu panda." Not bad for 8.30 in the morning.

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