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Little Miss Smarty Pants
I've been telling my husband I am a single married Mom for years now. When we moved from one state to another, my husband threw himself into his new job, and I was left alone to start a new life for all of us.

With my husband working 80 hours a week, I decided not to get a full time job and I became a stay at home single married Mom for our one child, Tom, who was in first grade. Somehow with my husband working what amounted to two full time jobs, I became pregnant.

When our daughter was about 16 months old she climbed the stairs of our new condo and ran into our bedroom. Tom, about 9 years old by now, casually strolled into the kitchen, where I was making dinner and said, "Mom Kylie's upstairs, I think she's in your bedroom making a mess." I ran out of the kitchen, saying, "You were supposed to watch her!" Running upstairs, I could hear Kylie laughing and grabbing everything she could off my dresser.

I knew what she was after, my makeup case. She loved watching me put on makeup and would be enthralled watching me putting strawberry Chapstick on my lips. I often gave her a Chapstick tube of her own and she would sit for about ten minutes putting it on her lips.

I had hidden all my makeup in this case and put it on my dresser upstairs, out of her reach. Or so I thought. As I ran up the stairs, Miss Smarty Pants slammed the bedroom door closed. As I tried opening the bedroom door she outsmarted me once again by locking the bedroom door. I told her to open the door and cut it out. I stood against the door, I knocked politely, I pleaded, I knocked harder.

Meanwhile, my son, came upstairs and said, "This will get her out, Mom." "Kylie, you won't get dessert tonight, if you don't unlock the door." To this we heard, a small devilish laugh from the other side of the door. She was having a great time. We heard her running from one side of the room to the other. She took everything off my dresser that she could reach, because we heard things falling.

I started to panic after five minutes of pleading and working the door handle, because I didn't want her to hurt herself. The house was completely baby proofed, but who knows what a toddler can get into. My son, Tom ran down the hall and got a small screwdriver out of his toolbox. He worked that screwdriver like a pro, but couldn't unlock the door.

Kylie in the meantime started to cry, either because she realized, we were trying to get in her secret lair, or that she was truly alone on the opposite side

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