Friday was quieter than normal. The Judge was out of town, which meant no court. The weather was wicked—cold and blustery. Those who could stay inside did. Few were thrilled to come to the courthouse to pay fines or traffic tickets even on a good day. Monday and Tuesday were busier than normal, so on this quiet Friday we were playing catch up, or at least I was, until the telephone rang.
“Good Morning. Circuit Clerk’s office. May I help you?” I asked in my most congenial voice.
“Mom? Are you busy?”
“No more than usual,” I said. “What’s up?”
I could hear the excitement in the pitch of her voice as she spoke, “I kicked the door in.”
Thinking I had misheard her, I asked, “You what?”
“I kicked the door in,” she repeated.
“Oh,” I said. “What door?”
“The house door.”
“The front door?”
“No the garage door.”
“Your garage door?”
“Yes!”
Thank goodness, there for a moment I thought perhaps my daughter had taken up breaking and entering. But why would someone kick their own garage door in? Confused, I asked, “Why?”
“I locked myself out. I dropped the older kids off and school and when I got home, discovered I only had the car key. I forgot to pick up the house key when I left.”
In my motherly voice I asked, “Don’t you check these things before you leave the house?”
“We were running late. I guess I thought I had it in my pocket. Luke was with me and he was having a less than cooperative morning. When we came home, it was too cold to keep him outside very long. So, I kicked the door in. Aren’t you excited for me? Those Cindy Crawford workout DVDs have given me strong legs. It only took five kicks before the door came out of the frame.”
I envisioned the garage door hanging loose, dangling from some unknown wire, ready and waiting to fall on one of my precious grandchildren’s head. “And that’s the only solution you could come up with? Kicking in the garage door?”
“I left my phone on the kitchen counter. Besides, Chris is out of town on business until tomorrow.”
“Well, why not use the neighbor’s telephone to call a locksmith?”
“Oh, well, I didn’t think of that.”
“Have you called someone to fix the garage door? It could fall on one of the kids and cause serious injury.”
“It can’t fall, it’s still on the hinges.”
“Hinges? Garage doors don’t have hinges, do they?”
“Not THAT garage door, the one that comes into the entry hall from the garage.”
“Oh,” I released the breath I held.
“Still, you should call someone to fix the door. How will you lock it?”
“I can lock the back garage door. No one can get in. Chris will be home at 2:00 A.M. tonight. He will have time to fix it in the morning before I take him to the airport. He’s going to the Czech Republic
“At least you don’t have to worry about someone walking inside the house through an unlocked door.”
Obviously annoyed at my attitude, after all, I wasn’t gushing over her ability to kick down a door, she asked, “Don’t you think it’s exciting that I had the strength to kick in the door? Maybe I missed my calling. Maybe I should have been a policewoman,” she crowed.
At the precise moment the word ‘policewoman’ came out of her mouth, I heard a fellow employee say, “Maybe she should have been a policewoman.”
“Maybe you should have,” I said. “Cindy Kicker, Policewoman. Yes, it has kind of a ring to it.”
As she predicted, Chris came home the following day, fixed the door, and packed his bags—again. They left for the airport in plenty of time for his 1:00 o’clock flight. As Tami pulled up to drop him off, he said, “Crap! I forgot my passport.”
Never fear, Cindy Kicker was on the job. She kicked that accelerator to the floor and got him home and back in record time. He had a full five minutes to spare. Cindy Kicker had saved the day—again.
