T. received a belated birthday gift today. It was the game Hyper Jump. To play, the computerized voice calls out a number or color, and you have to step on the appropriate target as fast as you can.
Like most toys, this required some minimal assembly; battery installation and attaching the air tubes and targets to the base. Simple enough.
T. ran into the living room with his new game, placed it on the floor, set up the game options, and hit go.
"Orange!" the voice called. T. immediately stepped on the orange target.
"Bleeeeeppppp! Orange!" sounded the base. Again he stomped on the orange target. Again we heard the same sequence. Over and over and over, again.
After 15 minutes of resetting the game and having the exact thing happen, I asked T., "Did daddy put this together for you?"
I looked at the box, not EVEN the instructions, and saw the problem. The targets were in the wrong order. I made a few adjustments and restarted the game.
BINGO! It worked perfectly. I just giggled.
Mr. Schmitty NEVER, EVER puts things together in our house. I won't let him.
It all started when we were first married. We lived at my in-laws in an apartment on the second floor of their house. They didn't charge us any rent so periodically we would buy them a nice gift as our way of saying thanks.
One summer day we purchased a new propane grill. Mr. Schmitty called me at work, early in the day, to tell me that he had gotten it. He said he would put it together and when I got home at 6 o'clock we could grill and have dinner with his parents.
I told him that sounded great. Heh. Little did I know.
When I got home from work, he was still in the yard with only two pieces put together. Mr. Schmitty had a drill in his hand and was preparing to drill a hole in one of the larger metal pieces.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I have to drill a hole for this screw to go in." He replied.
"NO! NO!" I yelled, "Everything is pre-drilled! That piece doesn't go there!"
Needless to say we at take-out that night. The next day I put the grill together. In about an hour.
He, for whatever reason, didn't actually read the owner's manuals. So, from that point forward, I have been the one to construct all furniture, toys, and baby items.
I've got enough stress in my life without worrying about wheels popping off strollers or bunk beds caving in.