“Stay in here,” I yelled from the shower.
Through the glass door I watched Little Legs struggle to reach the door handle. He stood up on his tip toes and like a clumsy ballerina he fell to the side. He tried again, reaching as high as he could with both arms and hands and fingers extended to their max.
I guessed that I had just a few more minutes left to rinse and untangle my hair before Little Legs had a full meltdown, frustrated at being trapped in the bathroom with only his own creativity to keep him entertained. He already pulled everything out from underneath of the sink, opened all the drawers, and then unrolled the toilet paper into a majestic pile of white squares.
Now, he was focused on escape.
Ha, ha, I laughed assuredly to myself as he jumped at the door. There would be no breaking out today.
The water refreshed me as it washed away the stress and grime from the previous day. I dropped my shoulders and relaxed the muscles in my face with a few deep breaths. I closed my eyes to get the rest of the conditioner out of my hair and heard a click.
My eyes snapped open and through my bleary water world, I saw Little Legs slip away.
His perseverance paid off, surprising only his mother. Not that it happened, but that it happened so quickly. I knew in that moment, as I scrambled dripping wet out of the shower to grab a towel and to chase down the escapee, that doors would always open for that hard-working and determined boy.
Meanwhile, Little Legs headed for the big bed, he had some jumping to do.