So the bedroom door doesn’t latch

I found out earlier this week that our bedroom door doesn’t latch. How did I discover that? I am glad you asked!

Sometimes when Margaret is hungry, I  go up to the office and nurse her while checking email and reading the news. When I do this, of course Karol joins us. I close the bathroom door, my bedroom door and put the gate up at the top of the stairs. Karol is free to roam in the office or his room (where he likes to dump out his clothes or all the Legos.) The other day, I heard a door close and thought he closed his bedroom door but after about a minutes, I didn’t hear any noise and a glance over my shoulder told me the door was still open. Off I went to search for him.

Bathroom door still closed, bedroom door still closed, his room empty of human life. Where oh where could he be? That’s when I heard a noise coming from my room. I opened the door and let me tell you that I am GLAD that I  sought him out when I did. Why? I am glad you asked. I guess we had a thing of petroleum jelly on the changing table and he grabbed it and managed to open it. Fortunately he only had it on his hand and a little on his shirt when I found him.

Today he rediscovered the bedroom door and let himself in, closing the door behind him, of course. Being hip to his plans now, I quickly followed him. He was “folding” laundry. That is, he was emptying the basket of diapers that are waiting to be folded. Nice.