Owen's Conspiracy

He may look as though he is studying the Martyn Lloyd Jones section of my library, but is actually deviously learning how to have the house to himself....
Today as Lydia and Anna were heading out of the door to Mrs. Birn's baby-shower there was a terrible event. Lydia and Anna were outside and Lydia asked me to come out and wipe off the snow from the vehicle (it seems that wearing Birkenstocks in the middle of February is not always the best of ideas).

I was more or less than happy to do this for her and I got the broom out of the kitchen closet. I told Owen that I would be right back and I closed the door on him (so he did not get his feet snowy). I could hear him knocking and being annoyed that his entire family was out-of-doors while he was stuck inside with the dogs.

I finished wiping the car off and Lydia pulled out of the driveway. I walked up the steps to the front door to the dreadful fact that Owen had locked the door! I turned around, knowing that I did not have my keys and that all other doors were locked, and yelled to Lydia as she waved and drove off!

I yelled, 'Lydia stop!' very loud as she drove away. I made a fool of myself waving and yelling as she drove north on Union Avenue. As she passed the Notliberal compound she must have noticed her over-sized husband doing aerobics in the snow (in his pajamas, mind you). She turned around and pulled into the driveway.

I told her that Owen had locked me out. She responded that he does not know how to do that. Oh, it must have been one of the dogs then. Well, whomever it was, I got back into the house and Owen was crying because he was scared. He is not used to his large father jumping up and down while yelling in the front yard... in his pajamas, mind you.

All was well and Owen and I did some father and son things while Lydia and Anna were away. We cleaned all of the vents in the house and a good time was had by all.