Of Preschool Tables and Men

Last night was a big 'ol reminder of how complicated children's toys and furniture can be.  Our church does not have a full time building so we do nursery nomad style.  Packing up the toys, swings, tables and televisions every week beats our stuff up pretty bad, comes with all sorts of challenges, and leaves us in constant need of size C batteries.  Last night was the night for putting together our new preschool picnic tables. 

You'd think that something made for children ages 2-8 that is marketed as "easy fold and store" might not require two people, two hours, and a bucket of sweat to complete.  That is where you'd be wrong.  I'm pretty excited that I didn't impale anybody with a screw-driver and think I owe that entirely to having read a blog post on grace on earlier in the day.

You see, while putting these almost impossible tables together, some young men thought they'd help by telling us what to do, quizzing us on bolt and nut names, and then proving they could build one faster.  And did I mention taking my tools away to do this because they thought it was better for a man to have them instead of me - who was trying to put together an identical table!

Let me give you a brief recap on why this was full of personal meltdown potential:  1.)  I come from a family where my dad takes his various John Deere type equipment apart and my mom puts it back together for him, 2.) When boys used the classic "punch-to-flirt" moves in elementary school I did not understand at all and merely punched them back, 3.) I got in trouble once in high school gym for taking a hockey stick to a boy's shins because he was forcefully pushing the girls away and not letting us play (my teacher decided he deserved it and admitted she called me aside merely for show so she wouldn't get in trouble for not saying anything to me).  She didn't see me when I kicked another boy in the shin for not letting the girls play soccer.
The friend I was building the table with also puts everything together instead of her husband and she was more visibly perturbed than I was.

Thankfully, I was able to step back and realize that at least one of the guys really was being a help, even if he strutted like a rooster to do it.  If he needed to put on a show, then fine - it was no skin off my back, it helped us, and it saved us at least an hour of work.  Granted, I came to this realization after I had regained posession of my screw driver.  And, yes, maybe I did take a little pleasure in him admitting he had made a construction mistake that we women had not.

And thus concludes the story of how a Little Tykes tables taught me one of my greatest lessons in grace and dying to the flesh like a grown up :).

Some educational points for men:
1.)  Nuts, bolts, screws, wingnuts, etc. all work just as well if you call them a thingy or make up a song for them as when you call them "hexagon number 8" or whatever.  Seriously, it's not biochemistry and we are not trying to determine whether there can be a covalent bond.  We are using the nut in the picture in the instructions, which just so happens to be the only size that came with the table.  The PRESCHOOL table.  It's not a jet plane.
2.)  If I girl brings her own tools, she just might have used them before.  Even if she doesn't call something the same name as you.
3.) We do appreciate your help, but it's much easier to appreciate when you don't begin with making us want to punch you in the face.  You can't call us moody and wenchy if you intentionally tick us off.