Ben, there is a bookshelf in your room. A pretty but precarious bookshelf that threatened to tip over on you whenever you were near it. There are earthquakes here in California, and you are learning to propel yourself forward, so for the last week, I'd been meaning to install this furniture anchor onto your bookshelf. It started with the screws. The screws wouldn't fit through the brackets. The drill kept coming unplugged. I put the brackets at the wrong height on the bookshelf. You bounced in your Exersaucer and laughed at me. Your bookshelf is apparently made of titanium and not wood, and I couldn't get the screw to penetrate it, so the brackets and screws kept flying across the room. After screaming, "If I had a gun right now, I'd shoot myself" and "Nothing in this world should be this hard," Ryan scooped you up and took you into the other room, away from your crazy mother. After seriously considering the statistical likelihood that the bookshelf wouldn't tip over on you, I finally decided that I love you too much to risk it. After a half-hour of pure hell, I got the damn thing installed. So you are safe. And I love you. And this proves it.
I remember when I was little, I used to wonder what my dad's problem was when he yelled when he couldn't assemble or install something. Dad, I totally understand now. And I totally get why you had to knock a couple of cold ones back when you finally finished the job.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
1 comment:
You have such fortitude to get the dang thing together and attached. It definitely does show love for baby.
When my second sister was about age three, she tried to get something up high but pulled the shelf cabinet over on top of herself.
My first sister, age 4 1/2, and I, age 6, pulled the thing off her and left her laying there a minute to see if she was still breathing. She was, and managed to move all her body parts so that we could take her to dad who was outside.
this was before we knew that we were supposed to go get the able-bodied person to come to the accident victim. Youngsters and their non-logic ideas.
Dad had to ask a neighbor to help him set the cabinet back up, and then he tied it with clothesline to a hook in the wall.
Mom said that looked terrible, but dad said safety first. There was another baby coming, and eventually crawling.
There were four of us sisters. The first two of us must have been less active than the later ones. Either that, or they watched and learned from us older ones.
Post a Comment