let me in

It's a normal 4:30, Oliver is following me around as I attempt to get the house back in order because cleaning always wins over playing...he is odd like that. Anyway, we carry the laundry basket out to the enclosed porch and get to work hanging the wash. Since it's about 110 degrees Oliver gives up after two minutes and heads inside. I want to give up as well, but since I'm not two years old I figure I'll try to power through. I can see Oliver and he is just standing by the door watching me work sweat.
I turn to go inside and the door is locked. Locked! I'm locked out, it's 110, and my two year old is inside. Did I mention he was also very very lightly dressed since he is rockin some sort of rash. Lovely. The door has two locks the handle is unlocked and the dead bolt is locked, he can't even reach the dead bolt.
"Oliver, Oliver, unlock the door" I say as I tap on the glass and point to the dead bolt
-he just taps back on the glass
"Oliver, go get your stool"
-he goes off to the closet where the stool is but he can't open doorknobs so he can't get it
I tap on the glass so he comes back "Oliver your stool is in the kitchen."
-that didn't translate and he just looked at me and walked away
This isn't going well. My husband could come home in a minute, an hour, or next week, ugh. I tap on the glass and he returns. Our kitchen chairs are about five feet away from him.
"Oliver, Oliver get the chair, chair please."
-he walks over to the chairs, pushes a few around, and then climbs on one. I walk away for a second to calm myself. A few seconds later he is back at the door, he has peed on the floor, and is cleaning it with one of Jim's folded cleaned shirts, that's my boy.
"Oliver, go get the chair"
-he pushed the chair over, climbed on it, unlocked the door