Daddy Can Fix It

Daddy Can Fix It

"That's okay grandpa, daddy can fix it."
Them seven words hit me hard! My own granddaughter feels I'm incapable of gluing a leg back on her doll. A doll she doesn't really even like! So even if you did a bad job she wouldn't even really care.
Now I know that I have probably led her on to believe that old grandpa is useless at fixing anything. And Lord knows grandma is always reminding her that I can't fix anything. But it's all part of my master plan. A plan that has taken me years to perfect.
Early on in our marriage I went out of my way to be incapable. Wise is the man who does so. Otherwise, a jar appears in the kitchen with a 'Honey-do' label on it. And it becomes full of weekend killing projects that take you away from what your real desires are. Which are, anything but fixing stuff around he house!
I say 'Live with them broken, or buy a new one or hire someone to come and have a look at it'. And by adapting this mantra I free up all my free time.
But now this 'daddy can fix it' statement, by my own granddaughter has got me in a quandary. Do I come forward after all these years and admit it was all a rues and that I have home fixing abilities far beyond what they know or could even dream of? Or do I continue the lie and have my own sweet granddaughter think I'm incapable of the slightest task?
I want my granddaughter to think I'm strong and smart and capable! The rest of the world I don't care what they think about my skills. But to her I've got to somehow blow my cover and go against what my Dad had taught me.
My Dad had schooled me in the fine art of being useless around the house. Mom would get on him to fix the thing-a-ma-bobby on the do-ma-hicky (using made up names is very important in being a complete nincompoop) and he would take so long and then mess it up so bad after three trips to the hardware store that Mom eventually gave up on him and call in a professional. Dad was now free to wander the basement and do things that interested him.
Wandering the basement has been a little tricky for me though. I don't have one! I have to resort to the side of the house that has no windows where I can't be found, or closeted up in the master bathroom. Both have their downfalls as the neighbor has windows on that side of her house (she thinks I'm a Peeping-Tom hanging around the side of my house for hours) and the master bath is full of jobs the wife wants done. What if by mistake I did one!? I've had many a nightmare on just such a circumstance.
I've got to fix that doll and let my granddaughter know I did it without letting the wife or the kids (they own homes too) know that I did it.
First off I need that glue that that guy used to glue his hard hat to the steel girder and hang from. I'll go see Gus at the hardware store, he'll know the right stuff I need.
"Gus? Gus Pound? Why he retired 15 yrs. ago!" the lady with the blue hair at the cash register informs me. "Maybe I could help you?"
You're an old lady! What do you know about fixin stuff I'm thinking. But she directs me to isle 35 (seems Gus has expanded the place since he changed the name to Home Depot) and shows me a whole isle of glues and adhesives.
"What kind of home project ya got on the go that needs gluing?" she asks.
I don't want to tell her I'm gluing a 'Baby Pee Pee Doll' so tell her I've chiseled a life size wooden bear, and one of it's claws broke off.
"You'll need a wood glue then. One formulated for natural wood fibers."
"No I don't! It's,...it's,...it's made from a plastic like, like a baby doll." Now I sound weird! "I melted dolls to make the paws and claws for the bear I chiseled out of a tree." Now I sound weirder!
She recommends some instant glue that I take home and glue myself to the 'Baby Pee Pee Doll! What now!? The wife is home and I can't get to the computer to find out how to get rid of my conjoined twin. I go outside and hide at the side of the house till she goes off to the mall on her daily excursion. I try to look natural for the first hour and a half so the neighbor doesn't think I'm weird too. I think I did pretty well all things considered.
The wife finally leaves and I'm back in the house on the computer looking for a solution for a separation. Nail polish remover is what I need and I'm sure we must have some because I have a wife with nails. As it turns out she has no nail polish remover, or nail polish that needs removing. I phone the daughter but she starts asking questions. Questions that might blow my cover. I hang-up. I'm desperate!
Ding-dong, "Oh hi Cindy! ......What?.....Yes that is a 'Baby Pee Pee Doll' I'm carrying. You might of seen me at the side of the house with it. I was practicing CPR on it....You thought I was doing what with it?....Oh no I assure you it's not stuck. (my wife and her talk) I was flinging it around like an airplane propeller to increase oxygen to the brain. It's how they do CPR in Denmark and do you have any nail polish remover?" I then confess to a substance problem and need a fix.
Back home with knife in hand I start to cut off 'Baby Pee Pee's' leg from my right hand. I'm not good at cutting with my left hand. It will be that terrible neighbor lady's fault if I sever my limb while trying to sever 'Baby Pee Pee's' limb from my limb. She had nail polish remover! I just know it. Said she didn't want to be part of the problem by enabling me.
Job done! 'Baby Pee Pee now has a hairy leg with some torn skin on it. But, it has two attached legs! The granddaughter will be so happy I fixed it. It will be our little secret.
Oops the wife's back, and wouldn't you just know it the neighbor lady runs over to meet her in the driveway. I've got more problems than just hiding my gluing talents it seems. Now I have to pretend I have a substance problem as well as being unable to fix things.
It's days like these that make retirement interesting.


Bob Niles