Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Handyman.

See, ordinarily I prefer to leave anything involving tools and lifting to Noah. Alas, with him gone, I've got to occasionally do work myself, so when my shiny new bed frame arrived in thirty pieces spread across two cardboard boxes, I rolled up my sleeves (uh, proverbial sleeves - it's Georgia in July, we don't wear sleeves) and prepared to get my hands dirty. Fortunately, Jim was ready to step in and help get the job done.


Big muscles to make the work go faster.


Lottie decided that her job was to try to eat the packing materials, so Jim helped me chuck everything in the trash right away.

At first I thought that, being four and all, Jim would probably be more of a detriment than a help. It turned out that I actually couldn't have gotten the thing together without him. There's no way I could've held up both ends of the frame so I could screw on the rails, but Jim held it up steadily and without complaint until it was together enough to stand on its own.


Jim held everything together while I put in screws.


Tiptoeing around the finished product.

2 comments:

Ma said...

Did you ever read my poem, "Handyman Jim"? I predicted his usefulness at an early age.

Emmy said...

Finally seeing it! I like it a lot. :)