Last night, Brendan's brother and his wife came over for dinner, and as usual they got roped into all sorts of shenanigans by the children. During an exciting round of Hide and Seek, our ridiculous situation of the day presented itself. When it was (guess who...) Ivo's turn to count, he went into the bathroom to do so. On the bright side, this story does NOT involve poop, toothpaste, dental floss, or Maalox- all of which have recently figured prominently in our daily "situations." However, Ivo locked himself in the bathroom.
It's an easy lock to turn and use... from the inside, but of course in this spatched together rental we have no key to open it from the outside. The bathroom door does have a doorknob installed which is more than I can say for about 25% of the doors in the house. So, there he was. Furiously turning the knob, kicking, and trying to get out. At first, he was sure we didn't understand his dilemma, "Just open the door and let me out!" he would yell. He tried varying levels of volume and tone to deliver this request in case we were simply not getting the message. Meanwhile, Ezra who was waiting for Ivo to come out and find him and Uncle Jordan, also grew increasingly frustrated. The adult Ribera men immediately commenced a calm logical course of attempts to learn how the lock worked and get the door open. I. LOVE. THE. RIBERA. BOYS. for their calm, cool logic, and I have always cited this as one of the top ten reasons I married mine... along with extreme levels of compassion for me and sparkling blue eyes and... Wait. What is this post about?
Oh, yes: my child was trapped. After about 3 minutes it became clear to us all that there was no easy fix. Of course, we were trying to calmly coach Ivo as to how to unlock the door himself, and I gotta say: I'm surprised he didn't get it right away. He's usually so great at figuring out how things work. Apparently, that feature can only be activated when his wishes are in conflict with his mother's! If I didn't want him coming out of the bathroom, he'd have been out in 10 seconds. Hmmm, maybe we should have tried that... Instead, he kept saying, "I can't! I can't! I don't know!" and getting very upset. I felt so bad for him. I put my fingers under the door, so he could hold my hand. He liked that at first, and it distracted him for long enough that the guys were able to try to a few things like binder clips and toothpicks. After a while, though, he thought it would be funny to try licking and biting my fingers. Our whole family was at this point standing outside the bathroom door. Ezra finally understood the situation and started his own dramatic response, "My brother! Oh no! He's trapped FOREVER!!!" You can imagine how this made Ivo feel.
Jordan and Brendan finally were working on another option for opening the door, and I began coaching on how to unlock the door again. I didn't see any progress. Then, Ezra pulled it together and decided to take over the project. "You just have to turn the knob!" he said. He then turned the knob, the door opened, and Ivo walked out. The people rejoiced! Obviously, Ivo had managed to unlock the door, but we missed it. Ezra had another interpretation: "I guess grown-ups just don't know what to do, but I figured it out! Good thing there was a 4 year old here." Great. Just the lesson I want him to learn.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Sunday, October 21, 2012
For Bethany
Today's silly story...
We went to a neighborhood/church game night at the Scott's house with the kids. It was a fun time, and the kids did mostly great. Ivo had a few growling-at-people incidents (which we are working on), but they were lovely other than that. Eventually Ivo and Ezra wound up without shirts or shoes, but it was the Scott's house; so I wasn't bothered. I do think I scandalized one neighbor by allowing Ivo to eat a chip that had (gasp!) JUST DROPPED on the floor, and there was a moment when I heard "Ivo let's not look at that..." and something about chemicals. Hazel was a great baby. All par for the course...
We stayed, as we always do, about an hour longer than people with three young children ought to (really, lady! think of the bedtime!), but I was still in a good mood by the time we were getting out the door despite an overtired baby and a a 4 year old with a stomach ache. That's saying something! It wasn't really registering on my scale of things to worry about, but Ivo was making some weird monsteresque, coughing/growling sounds as we were saying our goodbyes and getting out the door. I figured he was just losing all self-control in the growling department as we inched further past his bedtime. Once everyone was buckled in the van, though, and Hazel started throwing a fit, I realized that he was actually making a gagging sound and grimacing. Hmm. "Do I choose to investigate this?.. Yeah, I think I have to... [out loud] Ivo why are you doing that?" "Because I eat that yucky soap" *shudder* "What yucky soap? at church today?" We had a soap mess episode in the nursery bathroom, so I figured maybe he still had soap on his shirt that made it into his mouth somehow. "No, in Auntie Bahbwa's" "THE CHEMICALS!?" "I don't know... GAG.... COUGH"
I then started to panic a bit, and Brendan took Ivo back in to see if they could identify what he had eaten. I sat in the van with a screaming Hazel while Ezra prayed, "Please God help them find the chemical that might make Ivo die, so he won't die." It took a while, so I was picturing them finding some terrible caustic chemical and forcing milk, or ipecac down his throat right away. Eventually they came out with this report: Gary had caught Ivo with the Bitter Apple spray for the dog. We assured Ezra that Ivo would not die, and I tried to suppress my laughter over the fact that my naughty child who has been told a THOUSAND times not to touch things that are not for him got Bitter Apple in his mouth which serves him right! (Although, I did still feel so sad for him and asked many follow-up questions to ensure his safety)
On the drive home, about half-way as Ezra was fading and Hazel was half-asleep, Ivo reports from the back of the van, "Ulllchhh.... still having the tasties..." I bet you are, son. I bet you are.
We went to a neighborhood/church game night at the Scott's house with the kids. It was a fun time, and the kids did mostly great. Ivo had a few growling-at-people incidents (which we are working on), but they were lovely other than that. Eventually Ivo and Ezra wound up without shirts or shoes, but it was the Scott's house; so I wasn't bothered. I do think I scandalized one neighbor by allowing Ivo to eat a chip that had (gasp!) JUST DROPPED on the floor, and there was a moment when I heard "Ivo let's not look at that..." and something about chemicals. Hazel was a great baby. All par for the course...
We stayed, as we always do, about an hour longer than people with three young children ought to (really, lady! think of the bedtime!), but I was still in a good mood by the time we were getting out the door despite an overtired baby and a a 4 year old with a stomach ache. That's saying something! It wasn't really registering on my scale of things to worry about, but Ivo was making some weird monsteresque, coughing/growling sounds as we were saying our goodbyes and getting out the door. I figured he was just losing all self-control in the growling department as we inched further past his bedtime. Once everyone was buckled in the van, though, and Hazel started throwing a fit, I realized that he was actually making a gagging sound and grimacing. Hmm. "Do I choose to investigate this?.. Yeah, I think I have to... [out loud] Ivo why are you doing that?" "Because I eat that yucky soap" *shudder* "What yucky soap? at church today?" We had a soap mess episode in the nursery bathroom, so I figured maybe he still had soap on his shirt that made it into his mouth somehow. "No, in Auntie Bahbwa's" "THE CHEMICALS!?" "I don't know... GAG.... COUGH"
I then started to panic a bit, and Brendan took Ivo back in to see if they could identify what he had eaten. I sat in the van with a screaming Hazel while Ezra prayed, "Please God help them find the chemical that might make Ivo die, so he won't die." It took a while, so I was picturing them finding some terrible caustic chemical and forcing milk, or ipecac down his throat right away. Eventually they came out with this report: Gary had caught Ivo with the Bitter Apple spray for the dog. We assured Ezra that Ivo would not die, and I tried to suppress my laughter over the fact that my naughty child who has been told a THOUSAND times not to touch things that are not for him got Bitter Apple in his mouth which serves him right! (Although, I did still feel so sad for him and asked many follow-up questions to ensure his safety)
On the drive home, about half-way as Ezra was fading and Hazel was half-asleep, Ivo reports from the back of the van, "Ulllchhh.... still having the tasties..." I bet you are, son. I bet you are.
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