I went to the Summit with Kandence who was 2 years old at the time. I only needed to drop by to deliver something of no concscoincce to my wife. I regrettably pulled the blue sedan in directly in front of the gym and ran in, delivered what ever it was I needed to deliver and ran out, a 15 second job, however as returning to my car I realized that I locked the car doors with the keys in the ignition and a 2 year old, who was wide awake, in the backseat. Here I did what most parents, I believe, would do in the situation. I panicked. I ran into the lobby and called 911. I know that seems a bit drastic now, but that is what I did.
While waiting for the police officer to show up I entertained the 2 year old strapped in the back seat by playing peek-a-boo. I would crouch down, sneak around the car, pop up and yell peek-a-boo. Every dad has played this game with a two year old at some point, however, most have not played this game directly outside a busy gym right after work. As patrons came out of the Summit doors they would see me crouching around my car and popping up and yelling peek-a-boo into the closed window. Some of these patrons I knew. As theses patrons came out the doors they would say things like, "Luke, I just saw your wife do you want me to go get her?" I would have to interrupt my peek-a-boo game to tell my friend to, in fact," not get my wife under any circumstances."
After having 4 or so such interruptions the police officer came. He was a big man who looked bigger wearing 23 pounds of hardware. He sauntered up to the window carrying a long, black bar used to break into such cars. He grasped my hand with a firm shake and preceded to jam the bar into the car. I watched as Kandence's eyes got big. She had that look that every two year old gets right before they start to cry. To ease Kadence's mind I put my arm around the big man's shoulders and smiled at Kadence. Kadence held her breath, I held mine and if I remember correctly the officer held his. Kadence did not cry but she still had that just-about-to-cry look. Again, I did what I think most fathers would have done in this situation. I asked the police officer to play peek-a-boo around the car.
Here we were, two grown men, directly in front of the busiest establishment, at the busiest time of the day walking around, crouching below the windows, taking turns popping up and yelling through a closed window "peek-a-boo." Some people stopped to watch, some asked to help, some pretended not to see us and others (my favorite type of people) asked if they could play.
As soon as Kadence seemed reassured the officer began to again try to break into my car to no avail, while I continued to play peek-a-boo. After about 20 minutes, a knight in shiny armor, (Carharts and a loose flannel) riding a white horse, (white pick-up truck stamped with LOCKSMITH on the side) drove up to the car. He dismounted armed with courage, intelligence, strength and a thin wire with a hook. In a flash, he unsheathed his weapon, slid it between the window and the door, twisted and opened the door with his other hand. All faster then it takes to tell. As the door opened he gave a wink and a smile toward Kadence, then turned to leave. As he mounted his trusty stead he looked over his shoulder and said, "my job here is done." And as fast as he came, he left with only the fumes from his exhaust pipe to prove that he ever existed. The officer looked at me and shrugged as he too walked to his car. I entered the car and looked at Kadence whose three simple words said it all, "Peek-a-boo?"