Who needs keys?

“Excuse me, sir, could you help us, please?” I thought it was best to be polite to a serious looking guy in a grey suit, hurrying past our house. “My husband went to work and he locked our gate and I don’t have the key.” The guy in a grey suit gave me a confused look.

“Could you help me lift my kids over the fence? I’ll hand them to you. Thank you so much.” With a confused half-smile, he held his hands out to help the kids over the fence. Both kids luckily found the whole situation hilarious.

The man started walking away before I called him back. “Uhm, now I have to hand you the dog as well.” Klara was in my arms, half way up the fence, so he couldn’t say no. “She’s very well behaved when being lifted up.”

The guy in a grey suit was already too far away to hear me by then, but I shouted after him nevertheless: “I can jump over on my own! Thank you very much!” He hurried down the street. He must’ve been really late for work.

Getting back into the house this afternoon was easier. I stepped on the bins, jumped over the fence on a pile of rotting garden trash, got inside the house and lifted the kids up through the lounge window. And then I did the same with the grocery shopping and eleven ikea shelves.

Keys? Who needs keys?

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