My youngest son is a sleepwalker sometimes. We will never have a screen door that locks automatically from the inside. Want to know why? I'll tell you...
One winter night in the late 1950s, in a small house in a rural railroad town, there were two boys asleep in their twin beds in their underwear. All was quiet and calm. The evening air was still and cool. Mom & Dad checked on their boys before turning in for the night.
A few hours later, they were jolted awake by the sound of an intruder banging on their window trying to get in. Talk about a panic! My grandfather didn't know if he should grab his pants or a baseball bat first, and he probably fell on the floor in his rush to get out of bed. My grandmother most likely had the covers pulled up to her nose, staining the hem of the top sheet with lipstick in the process (a fine Southern lady such as herself always put on lipstick right before bed, after brushing her teeth). Sheer terror whitened both their faces until they realized what the intruder was shouting as he tried desperately to get in...
"Mama! Daddy! I'm locked out!"
"...Ken????!"
"Yes, it's me. Please let me in.... It's freezing out here."
They crept to the door to see their eldest son, their pride and joy, standing on the front porch shivering in his skivvies. He had been sleepwalking, went outside, and the screen door locked automatically when it closed behind him. As soon as the cold air hit his bare skin, he woke up and knew he was in a heap of trouble, for his parents were very sound sleepers, and his younger brother, if awoken by the noise, would be way too busy laughing to let him back inside....
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