Oy.

So. Leaving the Howarth Park playground early this evening, I buckled an extremely reluctant Kamal into his car seat. I let him hold my keys to distract him while I clicked him in. He threw them into the passenger seat; I didn't consider that he might have pushed buttons on the key fob. I went round to the driver's side to get in, and--you guessed it--locked. Every door: locked. Keys, cell phone, child: inside.

Fortunately, it was late in the day and pretty cool out, and Kamal, along with the rest of the parking lot, was adequately entertained by the elaborate "Wheels on the Bus" routine I performed outside his window. But wrapping up this drama, just fifteen minutes later, required an actual fire truck (man, the fire department is quick! Those guys are awesome) parked behind our car, along with what I'm sure was a modest group of kind, concerned well-wishers but felt in the moment like an enormous crowd of witnesses to my idiocy.

(Kamal was thrilled by the big red truck, not to mention bedtime is delayed. Throw in Mama dancing outside his window and all the interesting strangers peeking in at him and this was a giant win as far as he's concerned.)