Maybe it's all
The Cosby Show reruns I've been watching, but sometimes our life feels a lot like a sitcom, only without the canned laughter.
It started innocently enough with a bag of old toys from a neighbor, and in that bag there was a pair of handcuffs, only without a key. Lest you think it was one of the children who became stuck in the handcuffs, think again.
While I'm trying to get dinner on (late) and everyone is hungry, tired and whiney, Phil yells from Lily's bedroom, "Where are the keys to these things?" My heart sort of skips a beat because I know what's happened.
I rush in there. "Phil! There are no keys! It came without keys!"
"Who gives someone a pair of handcuffs without keys?!"
"I don't know!"
Panic sets in. "I have to get them off NOW! They're starting to cut off my circulation!" He starts pulling at them frantically. "I'll break them off!"
"With what?" I ask.
"A hammer!"
I am the voice of reason. "You will break your
hand. Calm down, just calm down. If they were really cutting off your circulation, your hand would be turning blue."
He gets crazy eyes and says something about how I have no idea what kind of pain he's in.
I might have said something about how childbirth is pretty painful, but he wasn't really interested.
After three different youtube tutorials on "how to get out of handcuffs without a key" (which Phil incidentally said are no good) and about two hours later the handcuffs were off.
Phil says if he's ever in handcuffs again, at least now he knows how to get out of them. I just hope I'm not around to see it.