Just in case you’re wondering, yes, I do fit through terrifyingly teeny-tiny windows. Windows with no stable landing pad beneath them. Windows I would NEVER EVER explore except that, oh yeah, there was a child at stake.
Permaybehaps I ought to back up.
Today, I got a knock on my door (and I wasn’t watching Three’s Company). I opened it to find a visibly shaken (actually – just shaking) woman telling her phone to say something. She said it in spanish. (I understand a lot of Spanish, much much more than I speak). Her phone started talking to me and I realized the woman in front of me was my Spanish-speaking neighbor, whose English-speaking husband was on the phone.
Telling me that his baby was locked in his house.
And his wife (the trembling woman on the phone) couldn’t get in because the baby had locked a deadbolt that she (two years old?) could reach, but to which they possessed no key.
And could I please
go to my bathroom
put a chair in my tub and climb on
shimmy through our shower window
crawl across the lip of a roof from my side of the duplex to his
open THEIR shower window (chest-high, from my place on the roof)
slide into their tub (which did not have a chair so I’m just careening head-first through the itty bitty window with nothing but cold porcelain to catch me)
and go downstairs to open their front door
thus allowing the mother access to the baby.
So I said that yes, yes I could do those things, though he’d not explained them in that much description. His exact words might have been, “The baby is locked in our house. We cannot get in. But our bathroom window is open.”
And my exact reply might have been, “I got it, don’t worry.”
Because yeah, I’ve wondered before if someone could get through that window, but it’s TALL and TINY and so figured no one would ever try. I certainly wouldn’t! That’s dangerous, and what if I got stuck?
A baby is locked in a house. That’s what.
Maritza Amanda Valle, ladies and gents
breaking into other people’s houses (with permission) since….forever.
Days later, i keep discovering new bruises (thighs, knees, etc) that I must have gotten in my haste. I think “how did I get a bruise THERE?! oh yeah…burglary.” I can only assume that from another vantage point, my escapades must have looked pretty funny.
Life. Always odd. Never boring. Grateful for a God of narratives and adventures and open windows.