We arrived in College Station, Friday evening. On Saturday afternoon, Wes was outside playing with a friend. He came running into the house with this wild, yet fascinating story about a stickmy car and seeing the keys on the passenger seat. It was quite the report. I couldn’t follow much of it but I assumed he was just being melodramatic. This is common. Still though, having a long history with this child of mine, I decided it would be best to check out just what type of shenanigan was really going on. 

I went outside. There was my car. There were all 4 doors, locked. And there were my keys…staring at me from the passenger seat. 

Great. Somehow my kid had gotten into the car with the keys, had manually locked all the doors with my keys inside. Really. I didn’t even think this was possible with my specific keys. IT WAS possible and Wes had done it flawlessly. 

I came back inside to fill my mom in. Being the great mom she is, she went to work. She posted Wesley’s escapade on Facebook and asked if anyone could help. This saint of a person, Brandon Sweeney, who is friends with my parents, sent a Toyota guy over to break in to my car. He used these really cool tools, (which I’ve decided I really must have a set on hand because I’m sure this will not be the last time I have to break into something because of Wes) to break into my car that afternoon.

 It took him about 10 minutes. With the initial breaking in of the car, the car alarm went off. No big deal. He simply shut the door and it quit. Whew! Thank you sir! 

At this point, I figured we were home free. I thanked him profusely and he left.

I went back to the car and opened the door again, the very loud alarm began going off again. No big deal. All I need to do is start the car. I hopped in and put the keys into the ignition. The car wouldn’t turn on. BEEEEEEEEEEP. All the lights on the dash board just starting blinking violently at me. BEEEEEEEEEEP. I turned the key in the ignition again and it still wouldn’t start. BEEEEEEEEEEP. Over and over the alarm is sounding and I’m trying to start the car and it just keeps screaming its horn at me. BEEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEP. I’m pretty sure it was getting louder and louder with each time I tripped the alarm. BEEEEEEEEEEP. I’m sure the neighbors were wondering what in the sam hill was going on at house #5844!!!!!!!!!! BEEEEEEEEEEP. 

I was beginning to have some apprehension about this matter.

Why was this happening? The car should be starting! 

It dawns on me.

My own car thinks I’m trying to steal her.

Out of protection, she wouldn’t turn on while the alarm was sounding.

SERIOUSLY?!?!?!?! THE KID that did this is going to HEAR IT!

Then I thought…oh wait. All I have to do is shut the door, put the key into the keyhole of the door and unlock it that way, then my car will know it has been unlocked appropriately and the alarm will go off and I’ll be able to start the car.

Why didn’t I think of this before the first 8 times the alarm went off?

I’m pretty embarrassed at this point so I hastily jump out of the car. I shut the door.  I put my key in the keyhole, but it wouldn’t go in. I try again and it won’t stinking budge. What in the world? This is bizarre. I bent down to get a closer look of the keyhole. That’s when I found the stick. You know, the stick Wes was telling me about in that wild and fascinating story? 

It seems Wes had tried to “fix” the car by getting a stick and putting it into the keyhole to “break in” to the car to get the keys that he locked in there. As he turned the stick in the keyhole, the stick BROKE OFF into that tiny little space. My key was now blocked from unlocking the door and/or turning off the alarm. All the while, that dang alarm is still sounding. BEEEEEEEEEEP.

WES THE MESS. The name was prophetic.

Eventually, this whole ordeal was indeed solved. It took a lot of finagling and praying and scolding of, “Don’t ever do this again dude.” 

As I left the Bryan street, I think my car had her back end tucked between her tail pipes.  I have no dignity left on Easterling Drive, Bryan, Texas. 

My life with this kid is always an interesting adventure.

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