When I answered the door, I stepped outside to visit with them rather than inviting them in because the punk was taking a nap and I didn't want to wake him. After taking a few minutes to get acquainted with my friendly neighbors, I turned to walk back inside... Denied! The door was locked.
When I had walked outside, I had twisted the dead bolt to open the door, but I hadn't realized the door knob was also locked, and remained locked from the outside even if I could open it from the inside.
No problem. There are three other doors: two in the back yard and one in the basement.
Locked, locked, locked.
I assessed the situation. I had no phone and no shoes. Tori let me use her phone to call my man, but I knew he was in a meeting at the time. I called my mother in-law to see if she happened to have one of our house keys: negative. Stacy offered to drive me to my man's office in North Salt Lake while Tori stood outside the punk's bedroom window, which was cracked, but was too high to crawl through.
I'm sure they were thrilled to have met me. Hello neighbor! Why don't you take an hour out of your busy day to drive a shoeless idiot around town while your daughter stands outside a window, listening for a sleeping baby, even though she can't do anything about it if he happens to wake up!
Halfway into our drive, my man finally responded to my repeated calls and told me to turn around; he would leave the office in 10 minutes. So home we went. In my absence, my mother in-law had arrived and popped out the screen to the window in the pink bathroom. Luckily, my man arrived shortly thereafter, so I didn't have to stand on his mother in order to squeeze myself in through a tiny square and most likely become stuck at the hips.
We entered the house to find the punk just waking from his restful slumber.