aka, the 5 stages of grief, lock-pick style…

Yesterday:

8 Year Old Boy Child (aka Mr. Innocent in the picture) Mom, the bathroom’s locked but the key’s not working! 

Me:  Let me try.  *tries but key doesn’t go in.  Tries to shove key in*  Did you stick anything in here besides the key?

8YO: No. (aka Denial)

Me: We’ll have to wait for dad.  *goes back over to work & notices the missing paperclip that was holding papers together* Are you sure you didn’t put anything in the lock?  Like a paperclip?

8YO: Nope.

Me:  Where’s the paperclip? *repeat this line of questioning for 1/2 hour, until my threats of searching the garbage to find paperclip with broken piece leads to next claim that paperclip supposedly broke *not* inside the lock, then eventually leads to…*

8YO: You’re going to be mad.

*insert yelling here* (aka Anger)

8YO:  Okay, I was watching this YouTube video on hacking and they were showing how to open a lock with a paperclip. *pauses and asks with straight, cute face* Does this mean I can’t get that toy you have hidden in the box upstairs? (aka Bargaining Stage)

Me:  In the box you weren’t supposed to look in? So no.  Definitely not.

8YO: I’m so mad at myself!   (aka Depression)

Me: *calls locksmith*

Locksmith:  You should never have a doorknob on a bathroom door that requires a key.

Me:  *in surprisingly controlled voice*  You installed it.

Today:

Locksmith:  I found the piece of paperclip inside the lock.  Your son actually did a good job – he just didn’t have the right tool.  *shows the right tool*

Me to Zoo:  I guess we should buy him one and give him a doorknob to practice on. (aka Acceptance)