On Sunday and due to technical difficulties, Wendy and I drove to church in separate cars (long story). I ended up taking Roxie and Reagan. It had iced over, the night before, so things were slick on the front stairs, at home. I carried Roxie down to the truck. Reagan, however, was a different story. With her in my arms, I slipped right off of the top steps. Time slowed down to a crawl as I fell. I somehow managed to skip a step and slip all the way down the stairs until I planted my right foot deep in the snow on my front lawn. I’m not sure how I didn’t go down. I’m not sure how Reagan didn’t go down.
Once at church (we had the same slick ice situation at church), I carried Reagan to the front door and went back to the truck to finish the job. My truck doors were locked. Somehow, within 30 seconds, Roxie managed to start punching buttons on the passenger-side door and now I was locked out.
I weakly tried to show her how to open the lock by pointing to the lock. She helpfully came over to the door where I was and pointed with me at the lock. It was hilarious and frustrating, all at the same time. I finally realized that being a responsible parent, I’d taken my keys with me, which were in my pocket.