It shouldn’t be any surprise to Mike Burns when he sees my telephone number on a caller ID. After all, I’ve given him no shortage of business over the past several months.
Actually, it was at least a year ago — probably more — when one of my lovely children managed to lock the deadbolt on our back door, leaving us with no way inside other than utilizing Burns Lock and Key’s incomparable wizardry. A few weeks later, if memory serves, the same thing happened all over again. Fortunately, after those little episodes of ridiculousness, Grace and Zachary learned how to operate the door — and I finally got a key to the front made for Becca. Sometimes it takes something silly to bring about something obvious and practical (at least in this person’s world).
A decent amount of time went by between the locked backed door and the most recent incident of just a few weeks ago. Becca had a commitment after work, and I had things to get done at the Globe, so I brought the kids to work and instructed them to sit in the conference room and either do schoolwork, color or even watch TV. Naturally, the TV came on, but I think they spent more time running back and forth to the newsroom than anything else. At some point, I warned them of consequences (loss of TV, as well as iPad later) should they not settle down. They seemed to take this to heart, but the next thing I knew they had found a way to somehow lock the door to the conference room. They weren’t inside, but there were backpacks and jackets were, and the TV had been left on. Burns Lock and Key again came to the rescue.
If there’s anyone to blame for G and Z’s foibles with locks, I suppose it’s me. Proof of that came Tuesday morning, less than a week after we had moved into our new home. Sure enough, I turned the wrong lock and found myself flat out of luck. Calling Becca to let her know was something I dreaded all day. To her credit, while she was not happy, her husband was not required to sleep on the couch later that evening.
Perhaps that’s because even my beloved isn’t error-prone when it comes to locks, either. After all, there was the one wedding anniversary on which I had to work late into the evening. By the time I came home, my wife was in bed fast asleep and tucked safely away from the outside, and I was — for whatever reason — without a front door key. It took a few phone calls and some loud speaking into an answering machine (one reason why a land line is still handy) to finally rouse her and let me in. I’ve never not had this key with me again, just in case Becca decides to — let me state the obvious — unintentionally lock me out again.
We still do joke about the fact that this happened on our anniversary, however. It makes me wonder just what might be in store on future celebrations of our wedding day. Changed locks, perhaps?
Then again, Zachary once got himself into a locked bathroom door at our old house with some kind of playing card. Perhaps Mike Burns will be looking for an apprentice a few years down the road.