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Jenny Lou was on her hands
and knees scraping up boiled eggs off the floor where her grandchildren had
dropped it during lunch. With all the grown up courage a four year old could
muster her Grandson came running down the hallway calling out, "Gramma!" "Gramma!"
"Jerry's locked herself in the bathroom."
"Oh my!" "Oh My!" Grandma
Jenny Lou was trying to think as she ran. "A hanger." "I need a clothes
hanger."
Frantically she was jabbing
the straightened out clothes hanger wire through the middle of the door knob
where she had been told the lock could be released. She turned it right,
left, around, pushed on it, but, unfortunately, nothing was working. As her
eyes fell to the floor she could see water running from beneath the door.
She reached down and could feel it was very hot.
"She's turned on the hot
water!" "Tools!" "I've got to get Grampa's tools." With a sinking feeling
she ran, and she knew it was hopeless. He kept them locked away from the
children and she had not a clue as to where the key was. Instead of going
for the tools she grabbed up the phone book. It was the book with the small
print she had forgotten to throw away, and she wasn't going to stop to
search for her glasses. Instead, she ran her finger down the rows of blurred
names. The name she thought was right she dialed on the phone. Her neighbor
had a well equipped shop just over their fence and if she could get him he
would have tools.
A women she did not recognize
answered the phone. "Is Jimmy Jo home." She all but yelled into the
telephone.
"He's not here."
"I'm in trouble." "My one
year old has locked herself in the bathroom and I thought maybe he could run
over with tools." "Ours our locked up."
"Where do you live?" The
woman asked.
Jenny Lou is thinking.
"What?" But she replied, "Right next door." "I'm in trouble here, and need
help."
And then the most confusing
statement came from the woman. "Well, he's MY husband!"
Jenny Lou was known for her
quick tongue and at the moment could not control herself, although; she knew
she was hanging up to get back to the business with the child. "Is there
anyone there with tools who ISN'T your husband?" "Excuse me!" "Good-bye."
Jenny Lou had faced all sorts
of trials with children through the years, but never one who locked themself
in the bathroom. She was trying to think.
"Randy!" She tried to warn
the four year old because he was pulling out his toy tools to try to help
her. She couldn't stop to worry about this heart touching part of his
actions. "Randy!" "Don't be frightened now." "Gramma is going to break the
door down."
In his manly way the child
had no comment. He just stood back waiting for her to do something. "Thank
heaven for rinky dink, ticky tacky row houses." She thought to herself. With
about four slams of her shoulder against it, the door was open.
Sitting on a chair with her
eyes glued to the water which was running over the edge of the basin and all
over the floor. Baby Jerry was wisely at the highest place available. If she
had been standing on the floor there was almost certain she would have been
burned. She wasn't crying, but she was eagerly holding her arms up for her
Gramma to rescue her.
The Gramma was strong and
young enough to easily hold the child in her arms until the little girl
began to look less frightened, and this is when the phone rang.
The woman on the line said.
"Is this the Sanderson residence?
"Yes." "Yes." "Everything is
okay." "I broke the door open." "We are all okay." "I was just really
frightened." Jenny Lou assumed she was talking to the woman with whom she
had just spoken. Instead, there was a woman to reply with a young, but very
official cold reply.
"Do you know WHO you are
talking to?'' The woman wanted to know with no uncertain fooling around.
"Well, I guess I don't really
know." Jenny Lou had to be honest.
"This." The young woman
informed her. "THIS is the police department."
"Oh yeah?" Jenny Lou was,
indeed, speechless.
"Do you have everything under
control?" The cold reply of the first woman with the statement "Well, he's
MY husband!" And now this woman's cold detached question about control was
leaving this woman of another generation a bit "out in left field," as is
the expression goes.
Neither woman she realized
had asked. "Are you all right?" "Is the baby all right?"
That evening she and her
husband were both relieved by the avoidance of an accident and they laughed
about her getting a wrong number. Even worse that number having the same
name as their neighbor was an incredible coincidence. But, the real irony of
the situation was the calling of the police department and it was,
undoubtedly, the silliest scenario.
"She didn't know the police
department wasn't any help with tools." He grinned. Jenny Lou's husband was
ever the peace maker.
"I don't care about that
female thing logic." "What bowled me over was the total detachment of a
womanly feeling for a very feminine situation." For one lady to be worried
about losing her husband more than the potential tragedy of a child and for
the other dispatcher of the same gender to be more overly concerned her
position was not being properly respected rather than any feelings for the
baby was just too heavy for Jenny Lou's tired shoulders.
"I'm just thankful we are
laughing about it." "Things could have been worse."
Jenny Lou refused to dwell on
the woes and cares of the world about them at this day and age, much less
time of the day. Just have to chalk it up to the signs of the time, and the
theatrics of such. She closed the subject and wanted to think no more about
it for the evening. |
