It must have been quite a spectacle; me in my bathrobe pounding on the front door furiously. Even that alone may not have raised too many eyebrows. It was probably the enthusiastic jig I was doing while pounding on the door, and the terror in my voice as I nervously glanced over my shoulder and starting kicking my heels up higher and higher off the ground. All the while shouting very threatening punishments to my children. "You gall darn good for nothin' kids better open that door this second or you will never see the light of day again! EVER. EVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"
They had locked me out. It's one thing to lock someone out when they are fully clothed. It's another thing to lock them out when they are fully clothed and in imminent danger.
See, we have a wasp infestation. It's been growing steadily bigger. My can of wasp spray informed me that it is best to spray them at night or early morning when they are less active. These little buggers are crawling into a crack that, I presume, goes up into the attic. At mid-day there are thirty or so hanging out on the eaves, but in the "early morning" or "early evening" they all disappear in to their secret lair.
So I waited till about 8AM and went out, armed with wasp spray. As you know, I am paranoid about everything. So I left the door cracked open so I could sprint back inside to the safety of my home once I had sprayed them with death spray. The tricky thing was that I would have to run right under their nest in order to get back inside.
I was horrified.
The huge nest dwellers were all still inside, but apparently they had set up another camp and there were ten wasps working vigorously on their second home.
I mustered my courage. Ran out, in my bathrobe (with no tie because Ivy uses that as a scarf). So clasping my robe closed with one hand, I shakily rose the can of wasp spray in the other, aimed, and fired! I sprayed for a good five seconds. Then ran like a panther back to my respite.
But no! My security plan of having an open door to fling shut and lock after maddening the wasps somehow got ahead of itself! I was still outside and the door was shut and locked. I very nearly died of heart failure.
It took the kids five minutes to figure out how to unlock the deadbolt. Five minutes. If I didn't have such good aim with wasp spray I would totally be dead right now. And it would have totally been their fault. I hope someone would tell them that as they mourned my loss. That while they sat there laughing and pointing - thinking that my dance was just a silly antic to bring them entertainment- that I was actually being stung to death by angry wasps. I would want them to know that they were that naughty.
P.S. Despite their naughtiness, I still love them. And if I die at their hand, don't really tell them; rather just emphasize that good behavior can, at times, be a matter of life and death.