Nate learns That When One Door Closes... You're Boned
We spent part of yesterday and today in Milwaukee, hanging out at the Hilton hotel. We were there to watch Ike, our friends Dave and Rebecca's son while they attended the wedding and reception of one of Dave's cousins (if I recollect correctly). With the exception of a brief meltdown when Ike realized his momma wasn't around, we had a good evening. We ordered from Pizza Shuttle, which had remarkably good ravioli for a take-out place. The next time we visit Brew City, I think we'll make a point of stopping in to nosh on some Pizza Shuttle pizza whilst viewing their proudly advertised Warhol cow.
Perhaps in preparation for French sex comedy farce ("Oh Hee Haw Haw! Now to climb into ze bed wiz... Sacre Bleu! David! But where is MAH wife!?!") we got adjoining rooms, giving the boys a little more room to run and play. All was well and good for most of the evening. After visiting the water park, Ike and Nate played together, we read books and sang songs, and we capped the evening by watching Mary Poppins (which, Hottentot jokes aside, I find to be one of the least offensive films of the Disney oeuvre.
Then, at one point, Nate ran into Dave and Becca's room while we sat in ours. Suddenly, we heard a loud click.
"Oh... shit, I think Nate locked the door between the rooms!" I said with a sense of ill-ease. Essentially, our two-year-old son had sealed himself into a rather nicely appointed room, but one unsafe to an unaccompanied sub-subminor.
Nate could be heard on the other side, giggling at how he'd put one over on the adults. "Ha ha ha!" laughed Nate, "Ha ha ha!"
Dave and Rebecca were long gone at this point. I scrambled. When we checked in, I'd taken one of each of the keys to our rooms just in case. "Just in case" for what I didn't know. Hey! Now I did!
I handed them over to Mike, now slightly panicky, and told her to try opening their door while I talked to Nate to... Well, to keep him from wandering off to find an Nate-killin' outlet or curtain cord. Mike popped out and almost immediately came back.
"Neither of them work!" she said with understandable frenzy.
"Ha ha ha!" laughed Nate. "Ha ha ha!"
Then there was a pause. Followed by a slightly perplexed:
"Hello?"
And then a slightly less confident.
"Momma?"
"Give me the keys!" I shouted, and I went out and around to their door. The first key worked. I suspect Mike was a little hurried the first time and dealing with momma bear feelings. Nate, naturally, laughed his ass off as he rushed toward me to be swept up in my arms.
Yeah, you got me good there, buddy. [Insert Yosemite Sam grumblings here.)
Crisis averted.
Perhaps in preparation for French sex comedy farce ("Oh Hee Haw Haw! Now to climb into ze bed wiz... Sacre Bleu! David! But where is MAH wife!?!") we got adjoining rooms, giving the boys a little more room to run and play. All was well and good for most of the evening. After visiting the water park, Ike and Nate played together, we read books and sang songs, and we capped the evening by watching Mary Poppins (which, Hottentot jokes aside, I find to be one of the least offensive films of the Disney oeuvre.
Then, at one point, Nate ran into Dave and Becca's room while we sat in ours. Suddenly, we heard a loud click.
"Oh... shit, I think Nate locked the door between the rooms!" I said with a sense of ill-ease. Essentially, our two-year-old son had sealed himself into a rather nicely appointed room, but one unsafe to an unaccompanied sub-subminor.
Nate could be heard on the other side, giggling at how he'd put one over on the adults. "Ha ha ha!" laughed Nate, "Ha ha ha!"
Dave and Rebecca were long gone at this point. I scrambled. When we checked in, I'd taken one of each of the keys to our rooms just in case. "Just in case" for what I didn't know. Hey! Now I did!
I handed them over to Mike, now slightly panicky, and told her to try opening their door while I talked to Nate to... Well, to keep him from wandering off to find an Nate-killin' outlet or curtain cord. Mike popped out and almost immediately came back.
"Neither of them work!" she said with understandable frenzy.
"Ha ha ha!" laughed Nate. "Ha ha ha!"
Then there was a pause. Followed by a slightly perplexed:
"Hello?"
And then a slightly less confident.
"Momma?"
"Give me the keys!" I shouted, and I went out and around to their door. The first key worked. I suspect Mike was a little hurried the first time and dealing with momma bear feelings. Nate, naturally, laughed his ass off as he rushed toward me to be swept up in my arms.
Yeah, you got me good there, buddy. [Insert Yosemite Sam grumblings here.)
Crisis averted.