What’s the opposite of handy? Handless? That’s what I am.
I can barely hammer a nail. But having kids forces you to do things you wouldn’t normally do, like put together a complicated, 36-piece wooden playhouse you got from Lowe’s. Which is what I spent Sunday afternoon doing.
BECAUSE I LIKE SPENDING TIME WITH THEM!
Over the weekend, Mom and Buried had some friends in town. Because I’m an amazing husband, and because I wanted nothing to do with a houseful of women who haven’t seen each other in a long time, I took off.
I took the kids to Grandma’s. Both kids. One of whom is a five-year-old dynamo of energy and irrationality, the other of whom alternates between smiling, pooping, and screaming. I was looking forward to bonding with my boys, but I braced myself for a tough, exhausting weekend. And that was before I decided to wrap it up by building a playhouse in the backyard!
I knew that when we got back from Grandma’s I had to assemble the playhouse, and I was dreading it. I am terrible at such projects, and besides, when I finally got home, I wanted to collapse. The kids were fantastic all weekend – Detective Munch didn’t throw a single fit, and The Hammer slept straight through both nights – but despite how well-behaved they were, they still both woke up at 5:45, and I was still forced to wrangle and care for them all weekend just because I’m they’re father. It’s so annoying! And exhausting.
By the time I got home, I was wiped. And again, even though they’d been great, I would have been happy handing the kids to my remarkably-not-hungover wife and sitting on the couch with a beer. But duty called. And Detective Munch was chomping at the bit to not only use the playhouse but to help me build it. You might think getting help from a five-year-old is dubious, but he’s legitimately better at do-it-yourself projects than I am. So I powered through.
And guess what? It was kind of fun!
We spent the afternoon outside, Detective Munch ran around and popped in and out of the in-progress playhouse, and The Hammer sat in a diaper of his own filth and watched us work. Against all odds, no one lost any limbs, and now my five-year-old has a cool little playhouse that hopefully he’ll spend a lot of time in on Father’s Day because despite the fact that this was a gift for him, it’s also a gift for me! I may not be much for all the crazy power tools they sell – although the Kobalt 24V kit they have might have saved me some major headaches – but Lowe’s ended up providing the perfect Trojan Horse of a Father’s Day gift!
So yeah, I bought my kids a gift for Father’s Day. Which may seem backwards, except… when Detective Munch is outside in his playhouse, he won’t be inside bothering me while I try to take a nap and/or watch something that doesn’t have cartoon Transformers in it. Dad win!
My kids are never going to think I’m Bob Vila, but they will appreciate the fact that I devote my time to doing stuff for them, stuff that I’m not particularly good at, just to make them happy. They’d better appreciate it, because crouching down to get the roof on that damn thing might have permanently damaged my back!
But hey, we bonded! Because of that, it was all worth it. And that’s what I’ll be telling myself when my son outgrows and/or gets bored with the thing in about three minutes! Yay kids!