My dad and I (mostly my dad) built Nicole a new bookshelf, of which I hope to be able to take a picture shortly. It's a replica of a shelf I saw on Pottery Barn's website many months ago, but which wasn't for sale. (Good thing, too, because about half-way through the project, my dad asked, "So how much money are you saving by building this?" Read: "Why didn't you just spend the money and buy the thing, you cheapskate?")
Well, I'm finally getting around to hanging the shelf. Only problem is, as my mom would say, it's a man's job. And my man was at work, so I took it upon myself to get it done. But it didn't get done because when it comes to hanging shelves, I'm a complete idiot (that's what my dad will think -- and hopefully keep to his quiet little self -- when he sees the mess I made). Fortunately, I can recognize when to cut my losses. So instead of making the problem worse, I told Nicole we'd have to wait for Clint to get home so he could hang it. When it comes to these types of projects, Clint's like my dad -- he wants it done right. So I said to Nicole, "I hope Daddy doesn't get mad when I ask him to fix this tomorrow."
Later that evening, just before bed, the kids and I knelt down for prayer. Clint was still gone, and Nicole offered to say the prayer. In it, she included a plea for me and a plea for her shelf: "... and please bless that Dad won't get mad when he sees the shelf, and please bless that he won't do what we did ..."
PS: Clint didn't get mad, nor did he fix it. He thought my dad might like to do it next time he comes by. At least if the shelf had been available through Pottery Barn, it wouldn't have included installation -- so I hope he'll let me off the hook in that department.
PPS: Thanks, Daddy. Love you, Daddy. XOXO
PPPS: See you real soon, Daddy. (Hint, hint.)
