My Handyman had mentioned offhandedly several months ago that he hoped Sweet Pea would never lock herself in the bathroom. I brushed the idea off with hardly a thought, because the chances of her being in the bathroom alone, and then finding and turning the the little lever to lock the door seemed pretty remote.
Not so remote. Today I was getting a package ready to mail, and Sweet Pea was playing happily from room to room. I heard the bathroom door shut and should have immediately reacted, but it didn't really sink in until a few minutes later. When I went to check on her, I found that I couldn't open the door. Ok. Deep breath. Don't panic! I could hear her playing happily, and was hoping that the play was restricted to her bath toys, and not the toilet brush which has fascinated her since she was about 9 months old. Then I heard her sucking on a tooth brush. Ok, could be worse. I tried coaxing her to the door to turn the lever back so I could open it, but she was enjoying her private playroom, and wasn't at all disposed to even come to the door.
I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a screw driver. Maybe I could take off the door knob and some how get the lock to open that way. Four screws later, I quickly realized that would do no good. The doors in our apartment are old and wooden, and there's no access to the lock from the outside, not even a key hole. The position of the door jam makes it impossible to jimmy the lock with a knife or credit card, and the hinges are on the inside of the door, so taking the door off it's hinges wasn't an option.
I could hear Sweet Pea climbing on the sink, and did my best not to envision her slipping and crashing to the floor. Yikes. Bathrooms are no place for curious toddlers. I continued to talk to her, and finally got her to come over to the door by wiggling my fingers through the opening at the bottom. That was apparently very entertaining; I got a good squeal out of her. Still, she didn't even reach for the door knob, let alone seem to comprehend my instructions to "turn the little lever by the handle."
At this point I was envisioning the fire department coming and hacking the door in half in order to get her out. I finally gave in to my impulse to call my Handyman. I was really hoping to resolve the issue without his help, but I was running out of ideas. He was surprisingly calm, probably because he could hear the near-panic in my voice. He decided he would come home with his van full of tools, and surely something (drill, crowbar, saw...) would be able to get the door open. There's only one catch - he works an hour away.
By this time Sweet Pea had decided she really didn't want to spend the rest of her life alone in the bathroom, and was starting to whimper to come out. I got off the phone with my Handyman and continued to cheerfully ask her to turn the little lever. I have no idea if she had a clue what I was talking about.
As soon as I had realized she was locked in the bathroom, I started praying that the Lord would guide her little fingers to turn the lock back so the door could be opened. She understands more and more directions all the time, but we'd never practiced those instructions. As I slumped against the wall and prepared to keep her entertained for the next hour by playing with her under the door, I heard a *click*, and my heart leaped as I grabbed the door knob and the door swung open.
Needless to say, there are plans in the works to remove the lock on the bathroom door.