We bought a bunk bed for the boys.
They were so excited. The setup went something like this:
I brought the massive cardboard box into the garage. I opened the door connecting the garage to the house. Son #2 stood in the open doorway.
“What doin’ Dada?”
“I’m opening up this cardboard box to set up a surprise for you and Bubby. You are going to love this surprise, buddy.”
“Um, okay.”
Ten seconds later, “What doin’, Dada?”
“I’m going to set up a surprise for you.”
“Um, okay.”
Five seconds later, “What doin’, Dada?”
“Nothing.”
“Um, okay. Dada, what doin’?”
Dear Lord, give me strength.
“Dada! What doin’?!” He yelled at me condescendingly.
“I’m building a spaceship!”
“Um, okay.”
Do you get the picture, dear reader? This interrogation went on and on. Within the first ten minutes, I received so many questions about the same thing that I went cross-eared. I didn’t even know that was a thing.
I hadn’t even begun to put the bed together. It was at this point I considered packing it back in the cardboard box, and if the big concrete block box store wouldn’t take it back, I would take the loss and just set it by the curb for the Russian lady with the thick accent. She would get a fair sum for it through the Facebook marketplace.
Charity stepped in and pulled Son #2 away for a bit.
We worked together to put up the skyscraper bed as Son #2 periodically peeked through the door to ask, “Hey, Dada. What doin’?”
“I’m goin’ to the moon, son!”
“Um, okay.”
“Dada, what doin’?”
I clenched my teeth, “Our Father, which art in Heaven…”
Two and a half hours later, we tightened the remaining screws as mine started coming loose.
We brought the boys in and showed them the finished product. They leaped with joy and started climbing. I had forgotten that bunk beds double as jungle gyms.
I turned and started to walk out of the room to take a nice long rock in the La-Z-Boy.
Son #2 peeked out from the bottom bunk, “Dada! What doin’?”
to the fathers,
– Caleb
caneymountainblog.com 