"Get Noah!"

Our friends, the Nashes, are missionaries in Rwanda with the organization City of Joy.  They are back here for the next couple of months and tonight they are staying at our house.  We have been so excited to see them and spend time together since it's been a year and that visit was a very short one.  Our playroom doubles as our guest room so after Noah's swim lesson this morning, we came home and got to work on picking up toys and cleaning the room.
Now, I don't know what you wear when you clean, but I'll just say right now that today I was wearing yoga pants, a t-shirt and had taken off my bra.  I use the reasoning of the connection between bra-wearing and breast cancer to justify my freedom while at home without company.  Anyways, rabbit trailing, but important information you'll need to know for later.
So.  The toys are finally picked up and I have just sent the kids off to place elsewhere because who wants kids in a room that was just organized?  I also have to vacuum still.  We have a Rainbow Vacuum that we bought after Noah was born.  The thing cleans amazingly well and is great for those with allergies and asthma but it's a beast because it's a big, heavy bagless canister (the only downside to it) that uses water.  After you have vacuumed, you dump out the water and are embarrassed/rewarded by seeing all the nasty junk you just cleaned off a floor you thought was maybe kind of decent at least.
I went out the door to the backyard and to the place I dump the dirty water.  As I try to open the door to go back inside, I realize it's locked.  Not the lock on the handle, the dead bolt.  I hear a little noise and look down to see a mop of brown hair trying to turn the door handle.  It looks up at me.  "Mama?"
"Caleb!"  I shout so he can hear me.  "Unlock the door!"
Well, somehow those hands were able to turn and lock the deadbolt but aren't strong enough to turn and unlock it.  And he's trying.  It's just not happening. I need a new tactic.
"Caleb!" I shout again.  "Go get Noah!"
He stares at me.
"Go get Ellie!" I try again.
I can hear him say in his adorable and excited tone, "Eh-ya-ya?" (That's how he has always said his name and now it sticks for him, no thanks to Ellie, who refers to herself as Eh-ya-ya when talking to him. 'I'm over here, Caleb.  Eh-ya-ya is in the living room.')
He turns to run off and then stops a few feet away to look back at me.
"That's it!" I yell.  "Go get Ellie!  Get Noah!"
Now, yes, there is a spare key hidden somewhere.  And, yes, I could have probably found it, but it only opens the front door and this is where that tidbit of information from earlier comes in - I have no bra on.  And I have nosy neighbors of elderly age.
Instead of continuing to run off, he runs back with a big smile on his face.  I see him run back in to the laundry room, past the door and then he comes back a moment later with a laundry basket.  He turns it upside down to climb on top of it.  To see me better so we can talk.  Through the glass on the door.
"Eh-ya-ya?" he asks.
"GO GET ELLIE!  GO GET NOAH!"
Instead he starts to fiddle around more with the deadbolt and jabber to me in his own little speech-impaired toddler language.
I hear a click.
I try the door.
It's open!
I slowly open it a few inches while encouraging Caleb to get off the basket and out of my way so I can come in without trampling him. As he runs off, happy to have helped Mom (although he got me into the predicament in the first place) I notice he's not wearing pants.
Life has never been dull since having children.