January 24, 2008 | Mama Smith

the failed attempt

Thankfully, up until recently, Brighton has been unable to figure out the mysterious invention, known as the doorknob. This has offered us the luxury of a late 8am start most mornings, and for himself, the opportunity to read his beloved books, undisturbed, over and over in the oversized armchair cornered in his room that we find him in every morning. The few times he has rattled the doorknob and yelled for us to come get him, we’ve gently reminded him that he’s not allowed out of his room until Mom or Dad come to free him. And that there is plenty to occupy him in his room until then. This warning has thus far satiated his need to emerge in the mornings unattended.

That is until yesterday morning.

Matthew had left for work early, and I groggily pulled myself out of bed at 7:30am to the cries of Levi. Normally, both Levi and Brighton poke around happily in their prospective rooms/beds until we decide we have had enough coffee to be semi-decent parents. Rarely has Levi awoken screaming.

I stumble into Levi’s room (also known as The Playroom with a Crib) to find Brighton’s toys strewn everywhere, a good 20 minutes of playing already under his belt, and him standing in front of Levi’s crib pulling his little brother’s arms through the bars saying, “Come on Levi! Time to wake up!”.

“Brighton, why are you out of your room?!”

A look of terror fills his face as he turns to see his grouchy frizzy haired, bedsheet-faced mother.

“Um, uuum, I’m awake! I’m awake, Mama!” Obviously.

We began to have the same discussion of not removing himself from his room, but waiting for me or Matthew. Seeing as we don’t particularly want a toddler roaming around the house while we’re passed out to the world. Yes, new precautions will most likely now have to go into effect, but I still wanted the seriousness of the offense to be impressed upon the little roamer.

Fast forward to this morning. I head downstairs to get Levi and begin changing his diaper on the floor of his room. I hear B’s doorknob rattle, give way, and the slow creak of the door ensue. I hear little feet pitter-patter over to Levi’s room where I refuse to turn around…just waiting to see what happens. I hear them immediately stop upon seeing my back, and tip-toe back towards his room. The door slowly creaks shut. Then bang, bang, bang. “Mama! I’m awake! Heeello! I’m awake, Mama!”. More banging.

I stand outside his door just shaking my head. This is my son. Those wretched sneaky, manipulative genes I fought my whole childhood and still continue to wrestle with just cozied themselves right up in that womb and found another victim to plague. The sinful nature continues to emerge. Thankfully, at this age, it can be pretty humorous while simultaneously frightening.

At least his first attempt at sneaking out failed. He’ll most likely improve by the time he hits his teens. By then we’ll have invested in a canine electric fence collar that we’ll lock around his neck before bed each night.