Weekend Project, My Ass.

After visiting a pal in Texas a few weeks ago, in sheer adoration of his carpentry skills, I told Ricardo that Max needed a loft bed like said friend had built his son. My thinking was, "We'll go out and buy one." Ricardo was immediately insulted. I continually forget that I'm married to MacGyver. You give the guy a pice of gum and a paper clip and he can create anything. The problem is, it takes a while for Ricardo to assume MacGyver mode. I was pretty ancy about this loft bed gig. And so I used my super-wife powers.

It went something like this:
"Have a good day at work, Baby. We're going to go check out Nebraska Furniture Mart."

"Uh, for what?"

"That loft bed, I'm guessing they're having a HUGE sale since it's Christmas and all."

"I thought I was going to build that bed."

"Well, I didn't think you wanted to."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because you haven't done it. We'll just go look around. I promise not to buy anything TODAY."

By the end of the day, Ricardo had drawn up the designs, and had a list for all items necessary. (Hi fives to the wives out there. You know THIS process works. And if you didn't know, now you do...Ricardo, honey, disregard all comments in paranthesis.) He was pretty excited about it, so we went to the orange store so Max could drive the race car carts. If you don't know what the orange home improvement store is, email me and I'll fill you in. But if you don't know which store that is, I'm banking on the fact you probably don't have a car, a computer, or a television. The orange home improvement store is fairly prominent and some lame-o failure of a CEO just made several hundreds of millions of dollars to leave that orange store. That's what you do to CEO's. They showed you, mister failure. Sigh. Eyes rolling.

Back to the bed. We got all the stuff home, I parked my sweet precious minivan outside while Ricardo worked on the bed. 3 weeks and a bitch of a snowstorm later, I woke up Sunday morning and suggested that we skip particular Sunday functions to get the bed finished. I wanted my boy to have his bed, but more importantly, my sweet minivan needed his home back. Poor thing, out there in the cold. I actually had to SCRAPE the windshield one day. Oh, the horror.

So, we committed to it. Ricardo mentioned that we just needed to get it in his room and assemble it. It's so big, it won't fit through the doorway. So, we clear the room and bring it up. Ricardo assembles it. Mind you, it's got no ladder and no guard rail, but let's let the boy test it out. Max wasn't up there for 30 seconds before a loud cathump and scream. Super. I don't know who screamed louder, Max or Daddy. It scared them both. Max wailed and grabbed his hip and all I could think of is, "Didn't he just fall six feet?"

If you work with CPS, please do not call me. The boy cried for about a minute, and then asked if he could get back up on it. He ran back into his room. No limp. There's now a ladder and a guard rail. So, we're all jive with the state regulations. EIGHT HOURS and one more trip to orange store later, we have a bed. Ricardo even attached a race ramp for Max to race his cars under the loft. He loves it.

That night Max must have told Ricardo he loved him over and over again. I kept catching Ricardo admiring his carpentry skills. As he should. I'm so proud of the work he did as well as how gracious Max is about it.

Check out MacGyver's handiwork:

I don't mean to toot someone else's horn, BUT: TOOT! TOOT! Pretty impressive, huh?

It was a day of hard physical labor, worth every bit of work for Max's appreciation and sheer joy.

That's how I roll.