"Fun!" announced three-year-old Uri.
"Aren't they just the best guests in the world?" his five-year-old sister said happily.
The Rosenbergs spent every shvi'I shel Pesach at the Goldbergs. The two families always had a fabulous time together, and this year, since shvi'I shel Pesach was on Friday, the Rosenbergs were going to stay for two days – Friday and Shabbos.
On Shabbos morning, the children were playing hide-and-seek when Yossi Rosenberg came running to his mother with a look of alarm on his face. Four-year-old Shloimy Rosenberg was locked in the bathroom and couldn't get out.
"Why did you lock the door?" Shloimy's mother called through the door in frustration. "How many times have I told you not to lock the door?"
"But this was for hide-and-seek," the little boy justified himself.
Try to explain to him that it makes no difference.
Mrs. Goldberg tried over and over again to open the recalcitrant door. This wasn't the first time the door was giving them trouble, and she'd managed to open it in the past. This time, however, it wouldn't budge. The men tried, too, to no avail. Shloimy lost patience and began to sob.
"We’re allowed to break down the door," Shloimy's father said. "It's an explicit halachah that it is permitted to desecrate Shabbos in order to release a small child locked in a room by himself. The panic he feels can be very damaging."
Mrs. Goldberg looked helplessly at her husband.
"We'll call a chareidi locksmith," he said. He went to get a phone book in order to look up where the closest locksmith lived. The bathroom didn't even have a window, just a vent. There was no other way.
A locksmith! On Shabbos! With all his tools! Mrs. Goldberg couldn't bear the thought. She felt terrible. She'd known the door was problematic; why hadn't she taken care of it?
As Mr. Goldberg dispatched one of the children to a locksmith, telling him what to say, Mrs. Goldberg mentally contributed eighteen shekels to Kupat Ha'ir. Then, without even noticing what she was doing, she picked up an unfamiliar key from the floor, it looked like a car key. She had no idea who had brought it into her house – probably one of the kids had found it in the street. She stuck the key in the door, turned it – the door opened.
A cry of surprise reverberated through the house. Shloimy was out! Everyone looked at the key in surprise. How had it gotten there? It didn't match the lock at all.
Later that day, after explicit instructions to use only the other bathroom, the problematic door was locked again. This time, no one was in the room, but the door was stuck fast. More out of curiosity than hope, Miriam stuck the mystery key in the lock and tried to turn it.. The key wouldn't turn and the door remained locked.
"It has to be the merit of Kupat Ha'ir," she told the operator at Kupat Ha'ir at 2:00 a.m. on motzoei Shabbos, when the Pesach things had finally been packed away. "Nothing beats Kupat Ha'ir!"