One day, I was lounging around checking emails with a home improvement show playing in the background. The homeowners were doing a little DIY and the husband was timidly fumbling about, fretting, and whining because he’s uncomfortable changing a light fixture. Here’s a clue dude, at least turn the light switch to “off.” Better yet, flip the breaker. I stared at this fob with contempt.

Then I looked at my son who was sitting next to me playing on his iPad and realized, “I’m not sure he knows how to use a hammer.” So, I declared, “You will not be like that guy!”

When I was a kid, my mom used to force me go “help my dad” as he was working on the car or building a gazebo or fixing a leaky faucet. Even though I wasn’t interested at the time, and I’m sure my dad would have said I was of questionable use, it did give me a sense of comfort with tools and mechanical things. And because of that forced bonding hoisted on my reluctant dad, I have the confidence to at least attempt most repairs myself.

(Now days, I have an ace in the hole. If I’m really unsure of whether I’m making it better or worse, I can Google it. There’s always someone who’s taken the time to write or better yet make a video about how to do something.)

Because of my unfounded confidence, I’m a fairly handy guy around the house. I’ve laid hardwood floors, replaced toilets, and fiddled with plumbing and electrical things. I want my son to have that.

With work and patience on my part, it’ll be fun forcing my son to learn how to use a circular saw and keep all his fingers, how to test the newly installed plumbing for leaks, and how to bust my chops about stripping a screw or forgetting to first turn off the water main. It’s all part of the process.

After a typical week of making phone calls, updating spreadsheets, and basically sitting around moving electrons, it would be nice to finish something tangible together and say, “That wasn’t there yesterday. We did that.”