Today Justin unexpectedly woke up earlier from his nap than Norah and hollered for me to come rescue him from his crib. I wanted to spend some time with him, but my partially completed task list was calling. We decided to see what kind of trouble we could cause together and headed for the garage.
His eyes lit up when I told him I needed to get my tools and fix the door, and he bolted for his room to fetch his toolbox. As I opened the lid to my rather run of the mill toolbox, his eyes shined with anticipation as if I he were witnessing the opening of a Pharaoh's sarcophagus. His feet shuffled almost in a dance and his fingers involuntarily clinched into fists and released repeatedly as he envisioned holding and wielding each tool. I scanned the box and removed the sharp items, we had an impromptu tool lesson, then he eagerly handled each in turn, grinning ear to ear.
Eventually I had to start doing some work and began using a hammer and pry bar to remove a door frame. Justin thought this looked remarkably fun and gave the door a few low speed whacks with a rubber mallet saying "I fix it." He buzzed around the garage with wrenches, screwdrivers and pliers "fixing" everything in sight. In short order my toolbox became an unrecognizably disorganized mess, but I didn't mind.
After hearing a few of his hurried movements behind me, I turned to spot him proudly putting all his plastic tools into my toolbox. Considering the amount of WD40 on my tools I imagined what a grimy mess his toys would become and started to correct him. I immediately regretted my words as he looked up at me with the saddest look of disappointment ever, like his tools weren't worthy. I altered my course and showed him how we could organize our toolboxes together and explained how we would clean up his tools once we finished our job. His pride recovered, we moved on to the next task together. Naturally I failed to actually fix the door, but it was a good day.
His eyes lit up when I told him I needed to get my tools and fix the door, and he bolted for his room to fetch his toolbox. As I opened the lid to my rather run of the mill toolbox, his eyes shined with anticipation as if I he were witnessing the opening of a Pharaoh's sarcophagus. His feet shuffled almost in a dance and his fingers involuntarily clinched into fists and released repeatedly as he envisioned holding and wielding each tool. I scanned the box and removed the sharp items, we had an impromptu tool lesson, then he eagerly handled each in turn, grinning ear to ear.Eventually I had to start doing some work and began using a hammer and pry bar to remove a door frame. Justin thought this looked remarkably fun and gave the door a few low speed whacks with a rubber mallet saying "I fix it." He buzzed around the garage with wrenches, screwdrivers and pliers "fixing" everything in sight. In short order my toolbox became an unrecognizably disorganized mess, but I didn't mind.
After hearing a few of his hurried movements behind me, I turned to spot him proudly putting all his plastic tools into my toolbox. Considering the amount of WD40 on my tools I imagined what a grimy mess his toys would become and started to correct him. I immediately regretted my words as he looked up at me with the saddest look of disappointment ever, like his tools weren't worthy. I altered my course and showed him how we could organize our toolboxes together and explained how we would clean up his tools once we finished our job. His pride recovered, we moved on to the next task together. Naturally I failed to actually fix the door, but it was a good day.
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