Carpenters do the most amazing things.

For example, I was unpacking recently. Seem to be doing a bit of that lately. Of course, I had help. Friend and neighbor Crys Williams and daughter Danielle, aged 7.

Now, no one is perfect, and I generally feel that it is unfair to label or criticize young children regarding their personality traits. Let's face it: Until they mature into true adulthood, or hit the age of 32, children are generally afflicted with a mild form of schizophrenia, and bear no real responsibility for life on the planet--in my opinion only. However, there is one very, very special child in this world who deserves to be singled out for attention. My buddy. Danielle. (I'll get back to the amazing carpenters in a minute.)

Danielle is a builder of empires. She is genetically superior to 99% of the human race. She is tall for her age, painted with robust blonde good looks, gifted with a vicious wit and an unfairly intelligent mind. I do believe that Danielle has already sacrificed her intellectual innocence in favor of knowledge. There is no detail too obscure to escape her china blue eyes. She sees all, occasionally seizes anything and everything, and forgets nothing. By the time Danielle is 32 years of age, I predict that she will either be (a) dictator-for-life of a developing industrial nation, (b) Vice-President of the United States of America, or (c) Bill Gates' other mistress. At the very least, Danielle is up for a MacArthur award soon.

Visiting on unpacking day, Danielle was her usual imperative self. Bouncing around the house from room to room, and always stopping to ask permission to explore a room after she had already thoroughly explored it. The first rule of survival for a 7 year old is "act first and ask permission later, and if it breaks, blame it on the dog." I gently encouraged Danielle several times (try 30 "no's" in the course of 2 hours) not to handle anything fragile or valuable which did not belong to her, and I did search the pockets of her jumper before she left. She was very good. Nothing broken or missing.

Except her favorite toy horses and her favorite pair of shoes. This milestone event was, by my personal reckoning, the first time in her life when Danielle's judgment was not ratified by a higher power.
She had applied for and received permission to play in the pink room, the bed with two cute twin beds for children. She took all of my Horse Illustrated magazines with her (she reads slowly, so I thought we had a chance to get some work done downstairs). Only a few minutes later, Danielle came downstairs in an abnormally woeful state asking if I could come up immediately to open the door to the bedroom because her toys and her shoes appeared to have magically become trapped inside.

Huh? Oh, yeah. The one lock in the house I don't have a key for. An old Yale deadbolt on the bedroom door.

I surmised that in an effort to keep the wild plastic horses rounded up in their paddock, and to prevent the theft of shoes, Danielle had messed with the bedroom deadbolt and locked herself, and me, out of the room. I rounded up every key I could find in the pantry, and demonstrated to Danielle that I did not have magical powers to open the door, and that her horses and shoes were, for the time being, truly and constructively alienated from her!

Shock!! A problem situation an adult cannot fix!!

Mostly, Danielle seemed to worry that her Mom and I would be angry because she had locked her shoes inside the bedroom. We assured her that we were not angry. Also, she was very concerned because now she could not go play outside, or walk home without shoes. Or walk over to see my horse. We likewise assured her that this part was true, too.

I really did not know what to do about the situation, and it seemed inevitable that I would have to call in a locksmith to break into the bedroom. Worse, it would be a full week before I would have time for the appointment. Danielle persisted in her faith in my abilities to work miracles, and would I be able to rescue her horses and shoes in just a few minutes?

Nope. No way, kid. Sorry.

Monday morning early ('bout 7am) I carefully approached one of the historic restoration specialists who works on the Dorsey house about solving the problem of the trapped horses and shoes. I approached him slowly, averting my eyes and not showing my teeth while waving a $20 bill gently under his nose (which he declined). Hey, it works at the Mall...

I explained the problem, and he agreed to have a look-see-whenever. We agreed that while it was a great priority for the child, the fix would be done at his convenience. I went back to the Brown House to shower. While in the shower, the Specialist showed up (just walked right in) to break into the bedroom. And he did! Without damaging the door or picking the lock.

Here is the mystery: Can you tell me how the amazing carpenter got into the bedroom without forcing the lock or damaging the door jamb? He did not have a key. He did use two tools, both very common items in a typical toolbox. If you think you know how he did it, please send your explanation to me in a self-addressed, stamped envelope and I'll get back to you. The lucky winner gets $20 Canadian. Oh, yeah. There was a very small quantity of caulk involved. I did not actually see how the amazing carpenter fix the problem, so I am hoping someone out there can tell me. I was too busy dealing with other issues. Like getting dressed in between the start of my shower and the end of it.

I am so glad I did not have to go the locksmith route.

I hung Danielle's possessions (after feeding her plastic horses, which were hungry by now) in a bag on the porch door. I knew that Danielle would be over (with Mom) to take care of Reilly O'Dog some time during the day, and to collect the errant livestock.

Danielle's reward was a broader understanding about the cause-and-effect thing, enhanced by the realization that just because an inexperienced 7 year old makes an innocent mistake, an adult might not be able to counteract the effects in a timely manner.

My reward was a platter full of the largest Southern Style fried pork chops I have ever encountered, coupled with green beans cooked with fatback, and a whole Roma plum tomato, all wrapped up and ready to eat in my refrigerator when I came home from class. At 11:00 at night this is referred to as Soul Food. And, I was starving. Wishing I had groceries. And very surprised to learn than someone else was secretly looking out for me.

God, I am so glad that somebody else has a key to this place who can cook. So is Reilly.

Susie.