If he weren't so cute....

....I would have killed him!!!!! (not literally, you DFCS loving individuals!)

I was washing a load of clothes (see post below) and heard Laz in my room starting to cry. I quickened my pace so I could run upstairs and get the baby. Meanwhile, Presley went into my room to "talk" to Laz and keep him happy till Mommy could get there.

*or so I thought* (lesson #791,425 from having kids: NEVER take the word of a 4 year old)

I finished loading the clothes and ran upstairs. By now Laz was WAILING and my Mommy hormones were buzzing. I needed to get my baby!

I reached for the doorknob at about 20 miles and hour...and...it would not open. -puzzled- "Hummm...Pres? Are you in there"? I am talking to the door. No answer. "PRESLEY"? The pitch of my voice began to rise...matching the pitch of the baby.

"P-R-E-S-L-E-Y!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" His name has now taken on 3 syllables (and the thought is occurring to me that he is not in the room).

I hear a weak and eerily calm "Yes"? from THE OTHER ROOM DOWN THE HALL.

*this is where Mommy freaks out, kids*

Pres is in the other room. The door to my room -where little helpless crying baby is- LOCKED TIGHT.
At this point I am absorbing the fact that my adorable Presley has locked the door to my room and ran into another room to hide from me knowing that I am contemplating the worst possible punishment for him..my cute Pres! My little man! A MONSTER!!!!!

What takes place in the following moments is, in a nutshell, a hysterical mother screaming to her hysterically crying infant -through the locked door- "Mommy is here!!! (Presley you are in SUCH big trouble!) Mommy is coming to get you Laz!!! (Pres, when your dad gets home you are dead meat!)It's okay honey!!!! (Presley you are not coming out of your room for a year!!)Mommy loves you sweet baby boy!!!"
All the while trying to BREAK THE DOOR DOWN and thinking how much her hubby is going to want to KILL HER for doing so. Well, the door would not break down. Piece of crap.(mental note to self: increase weight on hand weights and do more shoulder reps) I called hubby -at work- and tried to convey the situation to him without bursting into tears and making him question the sanity of his little wife. He is so awesome. He calmly talks me into a calm, sane person and sweetly tells me where to find the toolbox, screw driver (Phillips), how to unscrew the screws without the whole knob falling off, how to turn the innards of the doorknob (who knew it would be so complicated?) and open the door.

AAAHHH!!! -singing angels, light shining from above-

I hang up the phone, rush into the room, lean over the co-sleeper, reach to grab up my infant son...and my eyes fall upon....a peacefully sleeping baby. This being the first and only time he has cried himself to sleep, poor thing. I had not noticed in my hysteria to open the door that he had stopped crying (which is good because had I noticed I probably would have been convinced he was struggling to breathe and I *might* have gotten an ax -firefighter style- to chop in the door).

I need a vacation.