Wall Crawler

A few Saturdays ago, I was vaguely jetlagged. Which meant I was vaguely grouchy. Diana asked me to give her a ride to work (she left her car at work so as not to DUI after a wine thing), so I grumbled and groused and, um, graduated as we walked out to my garage. Oh, and it was raining.

Now, the previous owners of our house had split the garage into two. One section is a normal garage where cars and bikes and rakes and lawn mowers go.

The other section must have been for the previous owners’ special prized sports car. Or their meth making. It’s barely wide enough for my little Prius. And my meth. I have these little fantasies of really doing the place up one day. You know, vintage Porshce ads and bikini calendars and one of those big metal boxes with all my tools. But for now it’s just wood and dust and cobwebs.

We tiptoed around the 37 Grover poops in our yard and reached the Rick garage entrance. I turned the doorknob and, oddly, it was locked. I never lock that door. Have never locked that door. Will never lock that door.

As rain beat down on our heads, I did a little math. No key to the door + only garage door opener in car locked in garage = throwing a huge fit.

While Diana quietly ordered a Lyft, I yelled at any child in hearing distance. It must have been your friends who locked the door! Yes! It was your friends! The ones who eat all my chips when they come over! It’s their fault. And therefore your fault! Well, I guess we are calling a locksmith. And it’s coming out of your college funds!

Elijah, who is used to my idiotic tantrums, said, “Dad, there is a hole in the wall between your garage and Mommy’s garage. Do you think we could crawl through?”

I could kiss that beautiful face, if it wasn’t covered in egg sandwich.

Luca, Eli and I walked to Diana’s garage and, yes, behind the kyak Diana bought to explore the wilds of the North Shore Canal, there was a little hole in the plywood. Probably created by a friendly woodland creature and not a disgusting rat.

I shoved at the wood a little bit and expanded the hole to be Luca sized. I said, “Get in there, Luca!”

Luca looked at the cobweb ridden, filthy, jagged hole and said, “No way.”

I told him he was being a big baby and it was perfectly fine. As I bent down to brush away some filth, a spider jumped on me. That’s not a HamannEggs fib for comedic affect. A spider lept from the wall and onto me. Presumably to act as official guide to hell.

I screamed and ran around the garage.

It look a little while to convince Luca to crawl through the hole. And a bribe of a new Cubs hat purchased from Target. But eventually he did get through and opened up the door. But he came out covered in gunk and crying. Much like the day of his birth.

As we drove through the rain, I happily offered to buy Luca whatever lunch he wanted. He just silently stared out the window, a changed man.