I am NOT very pleased with the person who taught my youngest to jimmy locked doors.
I am particularly perturbed at that person when I’m in the shower and I never hear the door open – just the whoosh of my pink-on-pink shower curtain before the icy breeze grabs at my exposed body parts (for some reason, I can never remember to turn on the heating lamps).
“Whatcha doin’, Mommy? Can you make me some more chocolate milk?” My three year old’s big blue eyes blink as if she thinks I really am doing nothing.
“I will do it as soon as I get out of the shower, OK Fluffy-Butt?”
She shuffles out, and, as always, leaves the door ajar.