It was a typical evening in the Tigerden. Football Boy went home with a friend after tutorial. I was holding down the fort at home. Tigerfan was out of town.
I had just put Tigercub in his chair for supper when I decided to confirm our baseball schedule for the night. Oops--the game was at a field about 30 minutes away and was thirty minutes earlier than I thought. That meant that in 1 hour we had to be at the game and Football Boy wasn't even home yet to eat dinner or change clothes!
I quickly called him to tell him I would be there to pick him up ASAP. Thankfully, the mother called right back and offered to bring him home. We began flying around the house, stuffing supper in and getting ready to go. I finished feeding Tigercub and went upstairs to get a bag ready. I did NOT close my bedroom door. That was my mistake. Someone else had not closed the children's bathroom door. That was their mistake. Before I knew it, I heard the slamming of a door and a since of dread filled me.
When a door slams around here and Tigercub is involved, everyone should be very afraid and this proved no different. Because no sooner had he slammed the door than he opened the drawer right next to it effectively locking himself in! I ran to the door and tried sticking my fingers through the tiny crack that remained open but to no avail, I couldn't even get them in enough to slide the drawer at all. I then ran and got a hanger...it was no use, I couldn't find anything small enough to go through the crack that was also strong enough to slide the drawer. I then began calling siblings thinking maybe their smaller fingers would do the trick. No such luck.
In the mean time, Tigercub was having a ball with his newfound freedom. He began opening cabinets and found the comet, some bathtub toys and then he had a GLORIOUS time when he found a marker and began dipping it in the toilet...which one of the boys had negelcted to flush. LOVELY!
By this time, we were already running massively late for ball and I had no way of getting him out. I called the coach, no answer. I finally got ahold of another mother and told her what was going on and that we would be there...eventually. She relayed the message to her husband, an assistant coach, as soon as she stopped laughing.
Well, eventually, he closed the drawer and I made my move! I grabbed him, and the comet, and the marker, etc. washed his hands and we left. We made it to the game before it started and actually weren't even the VERY last ones there. Strangely, I find so little consolation in this. Why do I feel that this won't be the last of these stories?