My first close call as a dad last night. I had swaddled Phoebe and was preparing to put her to bed in her little basinet, which is currently in our bedroom. It was wicked humid and the air conditioner was on in our room, so the door was closed.
Phoebe in one hand, I tried to open the door with the other. No luck. The knob seemed to be slipping; in any case, it wasn’t opening the door. I put Phoebe down on her changing table and went back to the door. No matter what I tried, however, I couldn’t get the knob to turn the latch. Sari took Phoebe while I spent a good twenty minutes attacking the door. Tightening the knob didn’t work. Loosening the knob didn’t work. Replacing the knob didn’t work. Using a skeleton key on the bolt didn’t work. I even knocked the spindle through to the other side and stuck a whole new knob & spindle through, and that didn’t work either. I was totally flummoxed. I even considered calling a locksmith and had a look their website to see if they would be of any help.
Finally, I admitted defeat and we all bedded down for the night in Phoebe’s room. Sari took the single bed, Phoebe slept in her car seat, and I put some couch pillows on the floor. We both just kept saying how lucky it was that Phoebe hadn’t been in the room, on the other side, when this happened. I would have had to learn how to break a door down very quickly!
So we spent the night in splendid discomfort (especially me!), while the AC chugged along in our empty bedroom. I had no clothes to sleep in so Sari lent me something. I looked quite sexy in her big black maternity shirt emblazoned with the words “Got Baby?”
This morning the super came in, removed the face plate of the lock assembly, pried back the molding, and jimmied open the door.