Panic Button

So I'm sitting at my computer, enjoying a half frozen bottle of water in my deathly silent corner of suburbia, when I hear a car horn honking rhythmically. This is like a flashback to my New York City days, when car alarms at all hours of the day or night were just part of the soundtrack that was my life. But up here is Snoozeville? Damn, I think, that sounds like it's right outside my window. Take another sip or two. Jeez, that sounds like MY car... Oh, shit, is someone trying to steal my car?!? So out into the driveway I race, only to find The Blue Beast, sitting there by its lonesome, tooting at me. WTF? I stand there stupidly, mouth gaping, until the truth dawns on me: MIKRO HAS MY CAR KEYS! And the little (expletive deleted) monkey has hit the panic button. So I run back in and frantically scrounge for my keys, praying that the neighbors don't call the cops. Find them stuffed into the side of the couch and go shut The Beast up. Lesson in Mommyhood: Never leave your purse where the little people can get it...