Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on the Bathroom Door

When I was younger, I was a bit of a loose cannon. I wasn't a total hellion, but I got myself into some . . . situations every now and then. For example: One summer evening, a month or so before my 3^rd birthday, I locked myself in our upstairs bathroom. My mom recalls that she was either outside mowing the lawn or in the kitchen and went upstairs looking for me, but didn't find me in my room. She went to her bedroom, then the spare room, but I was nowhere in sight. She walked over to the bathroom to check there. The door wouldn't budge and she could hear the water running. Knock, knock. "Babes?" (That's my nickname) Silence. Knock, knock. "Babes??" "Hi, Mama!!" "Can you come over and open the door?" "Nuh-uh!" I had decided to have an exclusive pool party in our tub that NO ONE else was invited to (except my dolls). And to ensure no one else would crash my bash, I locked the door. My mom asked me again to open the door and I told her I didn't know how (which was probably a crock). She tried to explain what I needed to do to unlock it, and I tried a few times (or at least it sounded like I was trying) but failed. Not quite being 3, I guess I didn't totally grasp that anything was wrong and ignored her instructions. Plus, I had that sweet Barbie pool party going on in the tub that I needed to get back to. After pleading with me for about 15 minutes, my mom realized I was never going to unlock it myself and her heart did a huge "drop." With her first born locked in the bathroom, the tub possibly filling to the brim, and no way of getting me out, she panicked. I'll mention that she was pregnant with my little sister at the time, too, so her instinct to just ask me to move aside so she could bust the door down was out of the question. She took a moment to weigh her options. She could take the hinges off . . . but she'd rather have my dad do that and since he was out in the field, who knew when he'd be home. Again, she wasn't going to take down the door with her body . . . so there was only one other thing she could think to do. Knocking on the bathroom door to get my attention again, she said, "Stacie, do you think you can open the window?" I complied (but first I made her listen to me sing a few inaudible  lines of my favorite song, "Part of Your World" from The Little Mermaid). As soon as she heard the window start to open, she bolted out to our garage and got a ladder. She propped it up on the side of the house next to the bathroom window, and up she went to the second floor; my pregnant mother climbing to my rescue. Unfortunately, once she reached the top, she noticed that I had only opened the window about 2 inches. She likely rolled her eyes and pulled it up the rest of the way. Then she crawled inside, shut off the water in the tub that I was sitting in (fully clothed) and unlocked the bathroom door. The woman knows how to crash a party. I've asked her numerous times if she thought climbing up a ladder, while pregnant, was really the best option, and her reply has consistently been, "Well, someone had to do it and your father was nowhere in sight!!!" So that's that. Do you have a story of your little ones (or your "little" self) getting into a "situation?" Tell us in the comments below - we'd love to hear them!