If you give The Prince A Project,
You can bet if it’s around the house you might have to ask twice.
Possibly beg, cajole and often times barter to get the honey-do list done.
I give the guy TONS of credit as he is terribly short on time and when he is home he’d rather spend time with the kiddos.
I don’t blame him one bit.
Now there is one technicality here.
We made a deal way back when I broke a classmates hand in auto shop our senior year of high school that I would stay away from all garage tools except in the event of extreme emergency.
Sure I can wield a plunger and basic screwdrivers only in the cases where I really must. I’ve been encouraged strongly to only use a meat tenderizer as the extent of my hammering needs.
We’re just looking out for you and me here.
My broken toe rate dramatically dropped when I adhered strictly to his rule so I’ll gladly roll with it.
Now, the Handsome Prince could park a tractor trailer on a dime. He’s the kind of guy that could actually park all of those RV’s at the huge shows within inches of each other, having the time of his life doing it. I would have a heart attack and die if I was asked to do that.
We have a mobile motorcycle dyno that lives in a good sized trailer.
The Handsome Prince was exhausted one night trying to park the rig in the wee hours of the morning, even the best of them make mistakes.
He forgot about one little itty bitty detail that would have been handy to consider.
As he’s shedding the layers of clothing and filling me in on the day he says in passing, “Hope you weren’t too fond of the mailbox.”
You took out the mailbox?
“Yup. The wood needed replacing anyway so we’ll give it a face lift. No, not a we are the world hippy dippy version you were just thinking about.” He says laughing a bit.
The next day he announces he was going to fix it before work.
Fix it was a loose term for prop it up against the rose bush that day.
I give it to him. The man is working hard to make his dreams, mine and our families happen all at the same time.
A couple days go by and I ask again at dinner if we could do something because the roses are screaming.
My mother LOVES the roses by our mailbox.
Probably because they are unruly, a bit prickly but still kinda pretty in their own right just like me.
Okay the real reason she likes the flowers are that they smell SO beautifully fragrant and look just as beautiful in a vase 7 days after you cut it as it did the first. I like my version better.
I aggravated him out of bed on his day off after my offering of French Toast in bed with not too subtle mailbox hints and all I got for my troubles was him taking a morning nap.
Okay, I got ya. You need to rest. FOUR hours later I got him up and going.
He made it as far as the kitchen table where he was dared into a rousing game of Monopoly.
He would say, “I’m on it in a minute.” Every time I walked by.
Eh, I’d rather him have a date with his kids than the mailbox.
Finally about an hour before sunset he declares that he shall be master of the mailbox. He and a host of kids tramped out front, tools in hand.
A little bit later after a bit of RC Cars in the driveway, it was announced to me that they had fixed the mailbox.
I praised my handy people and I was feeling kinda proud of my Handsome Prince for being the type of daddy to teach the kids hands on.
Pride cometh before the fall.
What fall you ask?
I return from taking the kids to school but as I’m pulling in the driveway I noticed something was awry.
I walked to the mailbox.
Oh Shiitake Mushrooms!
Clearly the mailbox has not has its V-8 this morning. O.o
What do we have going on here?
A tent stake.
Props for using it in the ground as intended and I’ll give it him, a rather creative way to “fix” something.
A garden trowel.
I just don’t think I have words for this.
Perhaps one word: WHY?!
A wedge of wood.
Makes sense BUT I come to learn that this wedge of wood was cut off the base of the mailbox in the first place.
You might have guessed it.
Thus making our mailbox conveniently tall enough for a toddler to use.
I can only envision what it going through the mailman’s mind when he delivers to the shorty listing box that seems to be summing us up perfectly- Just A Little Nutty.
What is this gem I presume he intended to shove into the earth to stabilize the mailbox that now looking like a strong breeze could send it to the gutter?
When asked what might he have been thinking, he said, “It was getting too dark to work on it so we magically got it to stay for now.”
Then playing with the kids was more of a priority than the mailbox?
“Yes,” he says totally unapologetic.
This is why I love this man.
He can weld you something wonderful. He can build things from wood with crazy detail. He can fix almost anything with a motor. The man even makes custom wands from wood for fun. He’s always getting calls for wands.
The mailbox is not as big of a deal as the kiddos.
Yeah, he did a crap job just slapping it together but the kids got to use the saw.
It’s made it through the crazy Santa Ana winds that whip through here, as listed and dysfunctional as ever.
He rolled around in the grass and made memories.
He also made promises.
Since we don’t exchange gifts on Valentine’s Day, he’s going to REALLY fix the mailbox in an esthetically pleasing way that just so happens to be of normal height by the holiday.
Lesson learned here?
If you give The Prince A Project,
Be really freaking specific Be willing to wait for it to be done while memories are being made.
It also helps to have a heaping case of humble as you proudly smile, wave to the neighbors and defend the choice to let our trowel keep the dream alive.
Bring them cookies too. They can’t point and laugh without chocking to death. It weeds the mean neighbors out that way. Those nice folks that could care less will have themselves some tasty treats.
Passive aggressive baking just helps karma move a bit quicker.
Could the family sue because the sight of our mailbox caused their scoffing loved one to choke on said cookie?
Would I be claiming the cookie defense?
Would Sam the mailman be called to testify on my behalf?
Do I need to get out more?
Um, yeah. Just a little bit.
Look out for your mailboxes my friends.
Be sure not to give The Prince a project least you find yourself almost getting run over by a Camry while taking pictures to poke fun of his handy work.
Did I say something about karma?
Passing on sail mail for now,
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