You're Going to Make What?!, or Why There are Two Parents...

I heard my son and husband talking very animatedly in the kitchen the other day. "Yeah!! mumble, mumble...OK! Yeah, that would be great!! mumble, mumble." I didn't catch it all, but they sounded very happy.

Later, I asked my son what they were talking about. Somehow I thought geometry was involved. I thought I had heard my husband saying something about angles.

"Dad and I were talking about how we're going to build a big trebuchet." "How big?", I asked nervously. "Oh, about 8 feet--it's going to be great!!", my son told me very enthusiastically. Huh. 8 feet. That sounds powerful.

I won't build 8 foot trebuchets. Not only that, but when my kids were babies, I didn't toss them above my head and catch them. No, I cradled them gently in my arms and sang them lullabies. And, I didn't wrestle them in the bed--at least not as long as my husband was around. I nursed them back to sleep laying next to me. Also, I have not introduced my little children to power drills or power sanders as my husband has. Instead, I've given them homemade play dough scented with lavender oil, and several different types of crayons.

My husband and I have different approaches around here--and both are necessary for our kids. Thank God for a crazy father who will toss the kids, wrestle, help them help him build stuff, and this summer, build a giant trebuchet.

Does our park allow 8 foot trebuchets? It won't let the neighborhood dogs take a walk...