Keys . . .

Keys. To most people they are just a means by which to enter a building or a car, start an engine or lock up valuables, ect., ect. But to me they are a torture device, one all to frequently endured.

My relationship with these inanimate objects has been less than wonderful, long and arduous. When it comes to keys and me, I have an innate ability to lock myself and others out of the usual places requiring them.

This week was no exception to the rule for me. As I yet again locked myself out of something. The something this time was my van, and it wasn't just myself locked out it was also the husband.

Now what makes this particular lock-out more embarrassing then the rest is where and when it happened.

My husband and I were on a 'Santa' mission, delivering gifts to a friend and his wife. How embarrassing! To make matters worse, it was very cold and snowy outside.

Prior to departing, my husband asked if I had my keys. I answered, "No, we can just use yours." This did not go over well, but he didn't argue. When we arrived at our friend's house, I laid my husband's keys down on the center console and told him to take them as I got the Christmas gifts. He didn't hear me and I didn't realize this.

When we exited the van I glanced down and noticed my purse. I briefly thought, "Should I take that with me? Oh no! I can just lock it in, we will be within eye shot of the van the whole time." So, I locked the doors.

We delivered our Christmas gifts, exchanged pleasantries and said our goodbyes. When we got back to the van my husband stood there waiting for me to open it. I stood there waiting for him to open it. Naturally, I had given him the keys after all. Finally I said, "Dear, I gave you the keys open the van." Puzzled he replied, "No dear, you didn't!" Uh, oh! There they were starring me in the face from the other side of the window. Oh crap!

Mortified, we made our way back to our friend's door. After a very awkward explanation our friend drove us to our house to fetch my keys. Upon arrival the husband went inside to get my keys from where I thought I left them. Soon after he returned with an agitated look on his face and stated, "They aren't there!" Now panic set in as I realized MY keys were not in the house, but actually were in MY purse . . . in . . . THE VAN!! Oh crap, double crap, crap, crap, crap! Okay, I said the other word for crap Sh !?*&! t just once. But I really wanted to say it a lot more.

We thanked our friend and he returned home. My husband and I stood there fuming and struggling to come up with a plan that wasn't going to cost us an arm and a leg! Then he remembered the back window on our van was broken. The motor had died and the arm had been removed allowing the window to open slightly more than normal.

After further consideration he determined our youngest son was skinny and small enough to fit through the extra space provided by the broken window. So we loaded the youngster up and headed back to our friend's house. I am still riddled with doubt at this point, but agree to give it a try!

Back at the van now, I held the window open as my husband carefully pushed our boy through the window, to the keys waiting inside! What a hero he was!

This is not the first time little Christopher has helped us out of a situation like this. Six years early we -- okay, okay, I, not we -- had locked us out of our house. There was a very tiny window open in the kitchen. We popped the screen out and held Chris up to climb in and unlock the back door.

At our current location we have been locked ourselves out of the house three times now.

Then there was the time in Elkhart when we were locked out of our running car on Thanksgiving day. The locksmith came and made a copy of our key by sight, looking at it hanging from the steering column.

Also in Elkhart, my oldest son Zachary locked me out of the house in 12" of snow. I had only a pair of shorts, short sleeved T-shirt and slippers on as I went out to check the mail. The landlord had to come let me back in the house that time. I could see Zachary through the window as he laughed and played with the Christmas lights on the fish tank. I was hysterical by the time I got back inside.

Then there was the time I was cleaning at my parents house. I had gone outside, on the front porch, to shake the rugs out. Zachary, yes the same one who locked me out in Elkhart, simply shut the door. Well, it was locked and the keys, the phone and my little boy were locked inside! That time I was able to talk to him and he was old enough to figure out how to open the door to let me back in. Again, I was on the verge of hysterics!

Then there was the time that I locked both the boys in the car while it was running, with the music playing and them sound asleep in their car seats. I could not get them to wake up. So I had to call the police. The officer came out and used a Slim Jim to gain entry to my car and my sleeping babies inside. I was visibly shaken, even though I knew they were fine. I felt like such a terrible mother!

When I first got my driver's license I would drive myself to church. I locked myself out of the car at church so many times that my parents made a huge cardboard set of keys for me and they wouldn't let me leave until I had hung them from the rear view mirror!

There are so many more stories I could tell you, sadly. But they are really just different versions of the same torture story keys have put me through on a regular basis.

To tickle your funny bone a bit more, here is the e-mail our friend -- the Christmas gift recipient -- sent me after the whole key ordeal had transpired. I hope you enjoy it! I did:

The following story is true . . .
No names have been changed to protect the innocent . . .
Because this time, the innocent are guilty . . . of making me laugh!

And now, my take on a holiday classic . . .

'Twas the week of Christmas and all through the house
not a creature was stirring except for a computer mouse.
Clicking and clacking and moving around
to do the work of me, Bryan Brown.

When suddenly a sound rang out clear and strong
interrupting my 80's song.
It was the phone, and I thought "who could it be?"
Then I turned and looked at the caller ID.

It was my friend Michelle, and her husband Pete,
whom later on that day I would greet.

They had Christmas gifts to give to me and my wife,
to help ease the stress of holiday strife.
That afternoon they came, gifts in hand,
as all part of their master holiday plan.

But after they left, they did not get far,
as Michelle had locked her keys in their car.
A spare set of keys was what was needed to turn their tide,
so they asked and I agreed, to give them a ride.

We arrived at their home and I thought that was it,
then I heard Michelle exclaim, from the back oh s*%t!
The spare set of keys they needed to keep things from getting worse,
were still locked in their car, resting in Michelle's purse.

A locksmith was needed, much money would be spent,
at that I think Pete would rant, scream and vent.

But they had a problem solver that could remedy all this,
a small holiday elf by the name of Chris.
The boy fit through a window in the back seat,
He worked his way to the keys, no mean feat.

He opened the door, gave the keys to his mom and dad,
then smiled as a hero, who was quite glad.

Then they drove away and it could be heard with great ease,
Pete's voice saying, "Michelle, we're getting another set of keys!"

And to all a good night!

Merry Christmas!