Dumb as a Doorknob

I was so proud. One of my only attempted home improvement projects, and I completed it all by myself in a little less than an hour and a half. I replaced the doorknob on Brian's closet with a doorknob that has a key lock.

Why? you may ask.

Those of you who know and love us (and visit us) are not asking why. You've seen it. You're cheering me on - saying, "You go, girl! You teach them kids!"

Lance's favorite pasttime is pulling each and every book off the bookshelf in the closet. (Yes, I did say bookshelf in the closet. The bookshelf was moved to the closet, in an erraneous miscalculation that moving it in there would somehow remove the joy experienced by Lance's inner being when he tosses the books.) As if that mess weren't enough for the eyes to endure, Brian enjoys meticulously removing every pair of socks and underwear from the chest of drawers in the closet until he finds the one that happens to suit him on that particular day. (Yes, I did say chest of drawers in the closet. The chest of drawers was moved to the closet, in an erraneous miscalcuation that moving it in there would somehow remove the joy experienced by Brian's inner being when he tosses the underclothing.)

No matter. Problem solved.

Until...

Brian found the hiding spot for the keys to the closet. Me, in my eternal wisdom, hid them in the top drawer of a telephone table that sits in the hall. Right at Brian's level. (Whew, that was a good one, mom. You just about pulled the wool over his eyes.. until you pulled the key out right in front of his face!)

But no worries. I simply explained to Brian that Lance, under NO circumstances, was to ever be told where the keys to the closet were. Problem solved.

Until...

Brian told Lance where the keys to the closet were.

Next thing I know, Brian comes running downstairs yelling that Lance has (mysteriously) entered the closet. I run to the closet, and find Lance happily inside, de-shelving books one by one. I immediately pat-down both boys like career criminals, empty out their pockets, and cuff them. (Well, I would have if I had cuffs.) After quizzing Brian and going around in meaningless circles with him, I come to the conclusion that he has no idea where the keys are. He is answering each one of my questions with a question of his own.

Me: "Where are the keys?"
Brian: "Where did Lance put the keys, mommy?"
Me: "Did you tell Lance where the keys were?"
Brian: "I wonder how Lance found those keys, mommy?"

I enlisted the help of husband and we searched everywhere we could imagine a 2 or 4 year old would, perhaps, store a set of keys, all the while frantically trying to keep them from going near the closet. That's all we need is to hire a locksmith at 7 pm on a Friday night to remove our 2 year old from the closet. Let's explain that one to DFS...

Long story short, hours of searching and no keys. I half expect to see them shining from Lance's diaper sometime tomorrow.

SCORE
Boys 1
Mom 0