Worst Mother of the Year Award

Goes to...Me!

Yesterday the temperature in Minneapolis dropped to below freezing. So suddenly I've got to empty out and clean the camper we've been living in for about 2 months by noon (and I'm learning this at 8 a.m.). Ahhh!

Luckily I've anticipated this and have already emptied all the cupboards, leading to one very messy looking camper. Since there is a heater, I run back and forth between the camper and the house, bringing in loads of food, clothes, books, etc. My son is happily playing on the floor with his books and cars. Total time between camper and house, maybe a minute. He can't open the camper door on his own, so he's contained and fairly safe (no toilets to get into, no exposed plugs, no heat sources within reach). At least, I'm lulled into that false sense of security.

That is, until I come back to the camper and find the door locked. Well, he can't open the door, but he can lock it! What a revelation. I spend an hour going between standing in the cold and trying to get him to open the door and cleaning up a few things outside around the camper, so I can still hear him. Wonderful on a nice 29 degree (that's -1.6 degrees C for those outside the US) day.

He doesn't seem too concerned as I bang on the window, pouring milk all over the camper and smudging it around with his hands. Cars and books, that's all he needs. He doesn't even look in my direction!

I try to jimmy the lock with a knife, some small drill bits, even using my credit card to try and get it open (anyone who's gone to college knows this trick). Finally, my savior appears. Our painter, smart man that he is, takes a look at the outside of the camper and the windows. He unscrews all the screws from one window, is able to get the glass and the screen off, and climbs inside.

Mommy and baby reunited! Mommy now carries the keys in her pocket, just in case.