He did it to John over the weekend and I had forgotten about it. Otherwise I may have been more wary while unloading the kids, especially since the wind-chill here today was in the single digits. I attempted in vain to communicate with my smiling son who, to his credit, kept trying to open the door for me and Mrs. Pookie as I'm yelling "Johnny!!!! UN_LOCK_THE_DOOR!!! C'mon Honey! Unlock the door for Mommy!!! Oh my STARS PLEASE unlock the door!!" as I'm holding Lizzy or Gracie - I don't even remember who it was now - and idiotically pointing to the deadbolt. As if the kid could understand what I was talking about. I'm sure this won't be the last time the neighbors hear this one-sided conversation, and hiding a key somewhere outside freaks me out. Can't and won't do it.
The Boy is now relegated to being last out of the car.
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