Locked Out

My dad's in his late 80's. One evening, I took my parents out to eat. Afterwards, I pulled our van smack dab in front of the restaurant door, left it running, then dashed around to help both parents get in and situated. As I was trotting back to the driver's side, I heard a "click." Dad had locked me out, van running, and windows up.

"Unlock the doors, Dad," I yelled. He was a little deaf, as well. The closed windows didn't help.

"I didn't lock the doors," he gruffed back.

"Why'd you lock her out?" accused my mother.

"I didn't lock her out."

"Yes, you did. Let her in."

"She can get in."

It was always difficult to butt in when the two of them got to arguing. But as more and more people walked around the van in order to get in and out of the restaurant, I tapped on the driver's window.

"Dad, look at me."

"What?"

"Roll... UP... your... window."

He looked confused, probably because he could tell his window was already up.

"Roll up your window," I repeated.

Since Mother was no longer nagging him -- probably because she saw the same thing as he, and was equally confused -- Dad "rolled up the window" with a click. I quickly climbed in before he could "roll it back down," for our poor old van actually has handles to roll down and up windows, but near each handle is a button to lock and unlock the doors.