Richard Hearn on a day in the life of a DIY dad
Bright,” says my wife when she walks into the kitchen. “Bright.” I repeat, a couple of hours later when I walk into the same room. I’ve recently changed one of the kitchen bulbs. The chopping board has a spotlight. Cutting onions become a song and dance.
In Hollywood films based on real life, they often condense events into single scenes to heighten dramatic impact. Hold that thought.
That day, I’ve moved the stair-gate. Youngest™ spots it and is annoyed. He likes things in their place. I’ve moved it to do a tiny DIY job of removing old rawl plugs, applying filler and touching up the paint. I’ve just added the filler, which he’s pointing at in some distress. He rubs the area, it’s a little rough and he winces, then motions for me to put back the stair-gate.
“I go into the kitchen, switch the light on, and there’s a bang”
An hour later we pick The Boy from school. I have peeled a small piece of wallpaper from behind a radiator to colour-match a tester pot. The man in Homebase transfixes both boys with a comedy turn – I’m not being sarcastic, he’s being purposefully entertaining, and it genuinely lit up a bad day – and later I brush the paint on.
Small DIY or household jobs like these become more complicated with kids. I love how interested they are, and The Boy in particular loves to see me root through my toolbox, but he does ask questions I don’t have the answers to, and he’s statistically more likely to hear bad language the closer he gets to my DIY.
Sometimes I’m in the middle of a task and look up to see The Boy and Youngest™ circling the room, each using some un-nameable but vital component as a weapon. Or that the box with instructions on the side has been commandeered as a boat.
Next job. Part-way through changing the batteries of Moon In My Room, (you hang it on a child’s wall and it glows in the dark), I realise that Youngest™ has taken a selection of batteries and lined them up in colour order. Problem is, they’re a mixture of the old and the new. After a few try-outs, I notice there is an on/off switch on the back. I turn it on. It works.
I hang the moon back up in The Boy’s bedroom and go downstairs satisfied that a few small jobs have been completed. I go into the kitchen, switch the light on, and there’s a bang. All the lights go off downstairs. The fuse has gone. Not feeling so “bright“ now.
Oh yes, the mention of the Hollywood film? Well, I’ve condensed my recent DIY into one day when it perhaps took three. Still, I think you’ll agree, I’ve managed to really ramp up the excitement.
