Mommy, We’re Stuck in the Elevator

Benjamin had an orthodontist appointment yesterday afternoon. We are in that phase of life now. Orthodontists. Yeah. Thankfully, our orthodontist is lovely, the office staff friendly and accommodating, which makes each visit (and payment!) a little less painful.

The orthodontist’s office is located in a small, two-story building with an elevator. Each time we visit, the boys beg (and I mean BEG) to take the elevator. And each time I reply with a no. We can take the stairs. It’s only one flight. Let’s get some exercise. It’s better for us to take the stairs.

Now, it’s not that the boys can’t do the stairs. To a six and seven year-old, elevators are cool. There are buttons and lights and elevators go up and down. They are mini amusement park rides! And a whole lot more fun than the stairs.

So, as we were leaving our appointment, Ben and Nicholas once again asked to take the elevator down. It was on the tip of my tongue to say no, when I thought, “Why not?” What could be the harm, right? In fact, why not let the boys be a little independent and let them go alone. We were on the second floor of a two-story building. There was nowhere for the boys to go but down one floor.

And lately, I’ve realized that I say no a whole lot. Blame it on being over-protective or helicoptery or just plain scared, but I do. And I need to learn to trust my sons more, to guide them in making their own decisions, to know that they can make good choices. So, I said yes. It was only one-floor. What could happen?

What do they say about good intentions?

“Alright boys,” I said when Ben and Nicholas asked for the elevator. “You can take the elevator. In fact, you can take it just the two of you. I’ll take the stairs and meet you at the bottom?”

“Really?!” They squealed. “We can go in the elevator alone? Awesome!”

“Yep, go push the button.”

And so they did. The elevator doors opened, I looked inside to make sure the boys would be alone,

and sent them on their way. One-floor of complete independence. I walked as slowly as possible down the flight of stairs (read: jogged) to meet my intrepid elevator explorers at the bottom.

I waited. And waited. And waited some more.

I could hear the boys talking to each other, but the doors stayed shut.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was probably only a minute and-a half, I called to Ben: “Push the door-open button.”

“We did, Mommy!!” Ben replied.

Then Nicholas started to cry, “Mommy! The doors won’t open! We’re stuck in the elevator!!!”

You have got to be kidding me! I let go a little bit, and the universe replies by trapping my boys in a steel box. Thanks a lot.

“Okay, boys. Don’t panic. Is there a red button anywhere? Push the red button. It will set off the alarm.”

They did. And the alarm, outside of the elevator above my head, sounded a barely audible “ping”. Excellent. Very helpful.

“Mommy? The red button didn’t do anything,” Ben called through the door.

“I know. Try the open-door button again.” I said as I repeatedly jabbed the “up” button outside the elevator door.

Nothing.

A dental hygienist came through the front door as I stabbed the call button over and over.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Well, my sons are stuck in the elevator. They wanted to take the elevator and I let them and now they are stuck and it was only one floor and now they are stuck and I thought it would be fun for them to take the elevator by themselves and now they are stuck….” I blathered. Don’t panic. Right.

“I’ll let them know upstairs, and we’ll see if someone can help”.

“Thanks,” I replied, about 30-seconds away from calling 9-1-1.

I hit the call button again, as Ben pushed the door-open button inside. Suddenly, I could hear the elevator come to life.

“Mommy,” Ben called. “Something is happening.” His voice sounded further and further away.

I turned and bolted up the stairs, just as the elevator doors opened on the second-floor. A different hygienist stood outside, waiting for my sons.

“They’re up here, mom.” She smiled at me as I hit the landing. “Did you both have an adventure, boys?” See, best office staff ever!

“We got stuck in the elevator!!” They chorused.

“Yep. We’re going to have to get someone to check that,” replied the hygienist.

And so, Benjamin and Nicholas and I made our way down the stairs. At the bottom, we saw another family calling the lift.

“Um, you might want to take the stairs. There’s something wrong with the elevator,” I advised.

“We got stuck!” Nicholas shared proudly.

The whole thing probably lasted less than five minutes. It felt like five years. The boys got a little more independence than I had bargained for. They were no worse for the wear. Both begged to call Pierre when we got home, and agreed that it was like being on the Tower of Terror at Disney World. 

Terrific.

As for me, I’m going to stick with the stairs.

xo Naomi