Don't Hate The Gate

Last summer, the wooden gate that Jay built when he and our old Italian neighbor Tony replaced the fence between our houses together was ripped off it's hinges, never to be replaced again.

It was too heavy anyway. So I was promised a new gate. A nice, simple, elegant black metal gate that could be made at Jay's shop and welded by a different Tony, who is a kick ass welder.

Fast forward to this spring. I was pretty patient, for me. But around April I started gently reminding the husband that we NEED that gate. That I can't let the kids out in the backyard without being there every second because they can escape.

Fast forward a month or so, with breaks for slightly more urgent reminders.

Then, two weeks ago, I got word that the materials had been ordered! Woo hoo! I would be able to let Lucy play outside without having to set up a sentry post of me on a lawn chair at the side of the house, so she couldn't get out. Now, Monty can get out if he wants to. Even with the old gate, if he wanted out, he would just find something to stand on, hoist himself up onto the brick wall that encloses part of our yard, and like a skilled and handsome jewel theif, scale his way back down the other side of the wall. BUT. This takes time. Much easier to go to where the gate WAS and just run out of the yard and find somewhere to hide easy peasy.

So. Two days ago, Jay came home with my beautiful gate laid gently down in the back of the truck on cardboard, gleaming with a fresh coat of black paint. I almost died.

He didn't even come in for dinner. Just got right started on putting that gate up. What a hunk.

I went outside after a half hour to see the gate.

As I was walking toward it, my heart did a little jumpy jump. Happy wife! Then I got closer.

Can you see what I saw?
No?
Does this help?

My gate. That is supposed to keep them IN, is just a fancy EXIT.
Argh.
A.