Lesson learned today.
If you drive to the dump to drop off your garbage and you put your three-year-old in her car seat and you let one of your dogs come, don't leave your keys, wallet, and phone on the front seat and get out to dump garbage.
Because if you do, your dog will jump up and lock you out of your truck.
And then you'll have a three-year-old in her carseat and a dog in the front seat. And you won't have a phone to call anyone. And you won't have keys to unlock the door.
You will stand on your head and turn in circles to try to explain to three-year-old how to undo her car seat straps. She can get the top straps off. But not the bottom strap. And you know that if there wasn't a need for her to get it undone, she'd be able to do it without a problem. "Hold up this hand. Okay put this hand on the red button. Now take other hand and pull strap. No. Not that hand. Put that hand on the button."
She starts crying harder. And she's no closer to undoing her belt.
So you will fret for a time, and then a nice lady will let you use her phone. You know your husband's number by heart, but he still has his "do not disturb" on from the overnight, and so he won't pick up.
So then you'll fret some more. It's about 60 degrees outside -- not too hot and not too cold. Would a police officer consider it an emergency? Do you call a locksmith? You'll wonder who you should call. Someone else offers you a phone to borrow, and you realize: you don't have a single phone number other than your husband's stored in your brain. They are all stored in that tiny blue phone of your's which is now being trampled on by the dog bounding around the front seat of the truck.
Oh and there he goes chewing on the gear shift. Of course he is. You try to distract him. Yes, eat the M&M wrapper in the side door. Go for it Ritter.
You are now pacing. And fretting. And thinking. And praying. And you have no idea what to do. A nice couple offer to drive you to your house. But you can't leave the baby and the dog. Finally you swallow and say to nice couple: "Will you drive to my house and knock on the door and tell my husband I am trapped at the dump so he can come and save me with another key?"
And nice couple will tell you they have five kids of their own and they totally understand and they will not only drive to tell your husband but they will drive back to tell you he is on his way.
You will think about laughing. And crying. And screaming. And your body won't know which one to do so you will just stand next to the truck and keep dog from chewing or peeing and baby from crying or freaking out or eating twine (which she tried.)
And then your ride will come.
And you will unlock the door.
And you will learn a lesson that you probably should have learned somewhere in the eight years of parenthood preceding this moment: don't live a child and keys in a vehicle simultaneously.