Our third day in the new house, and Miles has figured out how to lock his door.
He beckoned us to come to his room this morning, and I arrived at his door to find the knob immovable. I tried to turn it a couple times, as one does, to no avail.
“Miles” I said. “I need you to unlock the door.”
“All right,” Miles said. The knob began shaking and rattling, as Miles fidgeted with it on the other side of the door.
I turned the knob again. And again, it was locked tight. From the other side of the door, Miles started laughing with delight.
“Very funny, buddy,” I said. “But can you unlock it please?”
“Okay,” he agreed. More fidgeting and, again, it was a merely a ruse.
Now Miles was laughing pretty hard, proud of his ongoing gag. And yeah, maybe I was laughing a little too.
He finally relented and actually unlocked the door. I opened it to find him standing there, beaming.
“You’re a real stinker, you know that?” I said, my outward amusement concealing my burgeoning concern for what this development could mean for future access to rooms in the house.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 