Little Helper

Kids pick up on everything we do whether we like it or not.

And my Husby likes to build things.

These two facts will come together later in this story . . .

Sooo . . . building things. Big things.

Husby made our dining room table.

Our games table and assorted other furniture.

Our birdcage.

A pirate ship.

Then he turned his attention to a cedar-log sunroom.

He does these things because it’s . . . fun.

Moving on . . .

This project required spending the days outside.

And making assorted loud noises.

Our kids grew up with Dad’s building projects and the accompanying rackets.

Our almost-two-year-old granddaughter who was living with us was just beginning to.

She adapted quickly.

Whenever there was a loud noise in the street (ie. Mower, weedwhip, atomic explosion) she ould gasp excitedly and say, “Grampa! Working!”

Then she learned something new.

Did I mention that Husby’s project keeps him outside all day?

Oh, right, I did.

Perhaps I should emphasize the words OUTSIDE ALL DAY.

Because one couldn’t drag him inside, even for meals.

Occasionally, I would poke my head out the back door and ask, “How are you doing, Honey?”

But that was the sum total of our ‘Husby-has-a-project’ communication.

Strawberry pals.

My granddaughter and I were in the front room. Me, reading. She, plotting to overthrow the world.

Suddenly, she jumped down from the table where she was playing with the Playmobil castle and ran to the back door.

There followed the sounds of effort.

Then the squeak of the door.

Then a little voice, “How you doing, Honey?”

Who says they’re not watching.

And learning . . .

 

Inside. Cozy!

Outside. Ignore the family members about to do battle . . .