A few months ago, I went to go into my bedroom and the doorknob came off in my hand. We rarely close that door anyway, so it wasn’t such a huge deal to put the knob aside and forget about it completely…until Cole accidentally locked himself in there a few weeks later – hello Brisbane rekeying people. A quick call to Uncle Eric and we were able to use a screwdriver to spring him. Perhaps, we thought, we should get around to replacing that.
But thinking was as far as it got; our house is old and a chaotic mess, so one silly doorknob is kind of low priority. Until Cole locked himself, Lulu, and I in there one morning – we were able to use some tweezers to jimmy our way out, but Cole thought it was such fun that he locked Grandma in there the next night while she was babysitting. No bueno – the knob replacement got bumped up a few notches in priority, and Cole was admonished and warned to stop playing around with that door.
Which he did.
He just moved on to another one! Last week, Adam went to go run a bath for the kids and discovered that the bathroom door wouldn’t open; Cole had locked it. No amount of lock-picking would open it, so I took the doorknob off entirely. Unfortunately, it was easier to get off than back on, and I managed to lock myself INTO the bathroom trying. (Adam threatened not to rescue me, but then he came around after I pointed out that I was alone on MY side of the door, and his side had both kids and the dog.)
The bathroom door is a much higher priority than the bedroom one, especially since we are hosting the Seder tonight and have 10 people coming over. People are picky about being able to close bathroom doors.
The doors that knobs keep falling off of are really old and ugly; they are probably original to the condo from the mid-70s, and were probably the very cheapest option at that point. I decided to use this opportunity to replace at least the bathroom door – no sense in fixing the doorknob only! I asked my dad if he could install a door if I bought one. He launched into a long winded explanation of why he couldn’t because he didn’t have the correct tools and my mom interjected to say that they would pay to replace ALL of our doors if I could convince Uncle Eric to come put them in.
I asked Uncle Eric for help – and, oh, by the way, could you do it *immediately* because we’re having company? – and he, once again, came to our rescue.
While I took Cole to the dentist on Friday, Coach accepted delivery on our 6 new doors, and Uncle Eric came to put them in bright and early Saturday morning. (Side note: I did not quite realize what I was asking – putting in doors is a MUCH bigger project than I thought, so I believe if Uncle Eric had any use for my first born, we probably would have to give Cole up. This was a major job and I am *very* lucky to have such a great family ready to help me out for my every crisis du jour.)
We have doors! They open! They close! YAY!