Well, I just had to share this one-
It is a common occurrence in the Kendall household that when leaving the house, we will often get precisely one block from home and go, "Wait! I forgot my wallet." Or "Oh, jeez- you have to turn around. I forgot my sunglasses." or, often from the backseat. "I have to go potty!".
When I say this is common- I mean practically every time we leave the house. It's daily. There's just so much going on, a veritable hurricane of talking, directing, grabbing things to take (which inevitably are never the things we've forgotten as that would be too easy) that things are left behind. And not the small inconsequential things that you can live without- but the really important things...like going potty and remembering to take our phones or *forpetessake* our wallet/ purse, those are always the things we forget.
And so, now rushed at the thought of an extra 1.75 minutes spent retrieving the forgotten item, we speed around the block and swerve recklessly back in front of the house, where we slam out of the car and race through the front door in search of bathroom/wallet/sunglasses/whatever. Keys in hand, we zip through the house (because there's no way whatever it is that we're looking for is going to be wherever it's supposed to be (except the bathroom which, surprisingly, is, often enough, right where we left it)) scanning furniture surfaces, turning over couch cushions, digging through handy 'organizational' baskets (yeah right) until we've found said item.
We then grab it up and race out the front door, click the flimsy, Good-Thing-We-Live-In-A-Small-Town-That's-Relatively-Safe lock into place and race back to the car, where we clamber in, hastily buckle our seatbelt, look at our spouse (whoever's driving) and go, "C'mon! We're late! Let's go!" only to see aforementioned love of our respective life look at us in an also frustrated way and say, "Keys??"
Oh yeah. I took those in with me didn't I? Hm. Open the clenched fist. Nope, don't have 'em. Crap. Crap. Crap. House is locked. Door could be broken in, but really, what a shame.
Ah yes- the old standby. A skill we hope he will never use in criminal activity, we shout, "Noah! You're going in. Mom (it's usually me who does this) forgot the keys again."
At which point my valiant four-year-old who fancies himself a hero (and really, he kind of is) when pressed into this situation, flips his seatbelt off in much the same way as his hurried mother just did 2 minutes ago, leaps from the car and makes a bee line for the back yard, two steps in front of whatever adult happens to be going to give him the boost. This time it's his father.
Through the gate, down the walkway and to our bedroom windows.
My four year old deftly pops the screen and uses the flat of his hand as traction on the glass in order to slide up the unlocked window. (He's doing all of this while being held as the window's kind of high)
Once the window's up, he scoots a hip onto the sill, swings his legs into our bedroom, and this time (which was yesterday by the way) he slants a look at his father, lays a hand on Ryan's shoulder and with absolute manliness says, "It's ok dad. I do this for mom occasionally." (he seriously said 'occasionally) With that he jumps to the floor (only about 18') shuts the window in Ryan's laughing face and disappears. We know the routine. Ryan meets him at the front door, where our boy is on his way out having locked the door behind him and has the forgotten keys dangling from his fingertips. He climbs back in the car, buckles himself in and sighs a deep sigh of self-satisfaction combined with boredom. Ah, the hero again. The role gets so mundane.
Now, as I mentioned before, this skill could prove to be one we regret instilling in him when he's 25. But for the time being, my four-year-old is pretty handy to have around.