Today the kids and I have a snow day. I am still working, but from home. Since EG works from home, he is here with us.
At six thirty this morning, he suddenly decided to fix the silverware drawer which has been broken for several months. He is a verbal person, so his repair job is accompanied by a running commentary in both English and Spanish, reminding me of the furnace repair scene in "A Christmas Story" if it were shown on Telemundo. The kids are hanging around nearby, hoping to expand their Bilingual Vocabularies of Useful Words We Don't Use In Front Of Mom while staying far enough away to keep from being drafted into assisting.
This reminded me of when I was a kid. We didn't have a lot of money, so my father, who wasn't necessarily mechanically inclined, did home and car repairs, many times after work and supper. My sister and I were drafted into helping. I can still remember being outside, feet numb from the cold, sleepy, and hanging over the engine compartment, holding the flashlight while my father got his car running enough to get him to work the next day. Many times, I would doze off, the flashlight wobbling off to illuminate the weeping willow trees until my father would bark and wake me up again.
At the time, I did not appreciate what he did. Now I do. And I still remember those words he taught me then.