It was a rainy morning that turned into a beautiful Texas day. We spent the afternoon and evening on the golf course. By evening, we were all exhausted.
We threw our bags in the car and loaded Kherington in her car seat. We remote-started my Tahoe and tossed the keys on the front seat. Then we closed the back doors… the doors that automatically lock when you use the remote start.
Our 15 month old was locked in the car.
I looked through the window at the keys on the seat and toward the diaper bag that held the spare set. I looked at our daughter, securely fastened in her seat.
I laughed, like I didn’t really believe it. Then I got a little hormonal and panicky. And then I realized that the car was running and Kherington was happily munching on a snack and drinking her water.
We called a few locksmiths and they were 40 minutes away. It dawned on us that the car would soon shut off. So we called the police.
Mama Bear and Papa Bear stood ready to break a window or even claw through it if need be. But even when the car turned off, the evening was cool. Kherington sat in her car seat making faces at me and laughing. She was in no immediate danger.
I tried to relax. Kherington and I interacted through the glass during the longest ten minutes of my life.
And then we heard them.
A huge, bright red fire truck came screaming down the busy street and into the parking lot that was crowded with people we know.
My face turned as red as the truck. I thought I would die of embarrassment.
No such luck.
Four handsome firemen hopped out to save the day.
They looked nervous when they saw a pregnant mama… but relaxed when they took in my nervous laughter and Kherington’s smile.
They decided to wait on a locksmith since she wasn’t in danger. Apparently they have one on speed dial.
They hung around chatting like old chums, when they seemed to notice the calm-if-somewhat guilty-feeling Dad.
“Is that yours?” one of them asked Skip, gesturing to the car.
“The Tahoe? It’s hers.” He answered.
“But the baby, that’s his.” I squeak like a stupid schoolgirl.
Amid my nervous giggles, a stern looking police officer showed up…. just in case it wasn’t already a complete circus act.
People gawked at us from their vehicles. And let’s not forget that my full name is plastered across the back windshield for all curious onlookers.
For a minute I wondered if I was about to be arrested, get a ticket, even have my kid taken away. He looked mean.
But he assured us that this happens all the time and suggested hiding a valet key somewhere on the vehicle.
I made awful, nervous conversation. Skip appeared cool and relaxed.
Uncle Landon laughs and points from his car and threatens to take video.
Harper keeps saying “Kerry-tin is locked in the car!” and I flash to the hundreds of people she will tell.
For another ten minutes Kherington blows kisses and waves at the handsome firemen and they flirt right back. She was having the time of her life with so much attention.
And finally Pop-a-Lock showed up. He acts like he does this every day, saving small children, and pops open the doors in less than a minute.
We surged in to hug and kiss a baby that had no idea anything was amiss.
We thanked our six knights in shining armor and felt grateful as they all drove away without handcuffs, tickets, a call from CPS, or even a bill to pay.
Parents of the year?
That’d be us.
Now I just regret not getting a photo of Kherington with her heroes. Now that'd be one for the baby book.