For three Sabbath Days, my parents came down to help us install the handrails and balusters on our staircase.
These innocuous-looking pieces of wood required some sort of magical elfin math, 60 beers, 14 hamburgers and the resilience of the 300 to install.
By the end of weekend three, we discovered that we had miscalculated slightly, and we would need to buy new balusters for half the staircase. I kept telling my parents that had they not been around to help us, we would have discovered this shortcoming about three seasons and 60 gallons of beer from the point we did.
Regardless, my parents were racked by guilt for the situation. So how did they respond?
They snuck into our house and finished the entire job while we were at work on Friday.
We came home to my ‘rents watching television on the couch. And this:
*insert heavy sigh of relief*
As you can tell, there’s painting and trim work left to finish up, but getting these devilish sticks and handrails into place brings more relief than I think childbirth will. Maybel is excited that she no longer has to worry about falling off the edge of the stairs for the third or fourth time.
ps – I have the best parents in the entire world.
Thanks mom and dad!
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