Elephant barstools...

Friday, I brought home what was to have fueled today's blog entry. I was certain my un-plan would work, and that I'd have a greatly funny story to tell all of you about an adventure in the living room of Casa Didgeridoo. I say un-plan because I introduced a couple of things into our environment that simply by merit of their being in a place are supposed to stir something up. They are the kinds of things that you bring in, place in a visible location, and allow to initiate a process into going down as if by magic.

But nothing happened. The two Airlift Stools with Chrome Finish are still in their boxes, packed flatter than I have ever seen two barstools packed. Originally I was going to have these things assembled for Didgeridoo Boy as a surprise. Upon peering inside one of the boxes, I found a piece of cardboard with screws and bolts attached, noticed that the backs of the stools are squeezed *just so* against the seats, realized that a little lever was going to have to be put in place so the stool would move gracefully up and down as its description implies, and put the piece of cardboard back in the box. They're very like puzzles, these two barstools. Didge loves a puzzle. And he might benefit from assembling them, I realized. Imagine the sense of accomplishment, and the pride he would feel in being able to tell friends, "I put those together!"

Saturday, Didge peeked into the box I had opened, and took out the same little piece of cardboard. I told him I thought he might enjoy putting them together, and he cocked up one eyebrow and smirked. "Mom has that electric screwdriver thingy", I said, "so I thought I would borrow that for you to use." He smirked harder and held the piece of cardboard with all the screws and bolts up to my face. Funny, I had missed that set of allen wrenches, as well as the fact that the tops of the screws indicate one must use those and nothing else. He put it all back in the box and said, "That's a Sunday project. I'll do those tomorrow when we get back from the grocery store and all that."

After we returned from the grocery store (and all that) yesterday, we stared at the boxes containing the to-be-assembled barstools off and on. I never said anything. Didge never said anything. By about 6.30pm we were both very pointedly, but casually, ignoring them. When Didge sacked out on the couch, I decided to have a documentary fest via the instant view offerings at Netflix, and moseyed back to the bedroom. It was a beautiful moment of agreement.

So - they're still where I put them on Friday, with one box opened and that ominous piece of cardboard tucked just so between the future back and the seat in a deliberate way that indicates intention to put them together later. Other than writing about it, I am avoiding the subject and kind of hoping Didge avoids it as well - at least for today. And maybe tomorrow. We'll see if it comes up while we're outside grilling tonight's dinner, or on one of the outings we've been mysteriously compelled to take.