Man with a Garage by child grower Annita Woz

motorcycleridingfeetSitting on the floor near my computer desk is a blond haired little boy with long eyelashes. Legs folded, his two little feet crossed underneath him, his tongue is on alert at the corner of his mouth revealing a deep  level of concentration.

 His tiny toes curl and release with each squeeze of the scissors as he cuts the duct tape to attach the toilet paper roll to the packaging that he has pulled out of the trash.  He is creating a rocket and believes it will launch and take his plastic Spiderman on a great adventure. 

A good man in a big garage, with access to a lot of stuff,  has made the creator in this kid come to life.

Want to make a ramp for a scooter? Check out the scrap wood in the back corner behind the shelving unit that holds the bucket of nails Dad has collected with his metal detector.

Want to make a playhouse in the back yard on the top of those two dead tree trunks?  Go see if your dad wants to make the building plans with or without the windows he saved from the remodel in 2003.

Want to make light sabers out of the foam swimming noodles stored in the camper? Go get the electrical tape from the big box in Dad’s garage. 

You name it, this garage has got it.

I am sharing the shelf inventory because the contents are equally proportional to the number of times the garage pile has put grins on the faces of children.

He’s a rare breed,  a handyman with the precision of an engineer. He does things right or he doesn’t do them at all.  He knows enough about how things work that no construction crew would dare to try and cut corners on a project.  If he had the time, he could do most anything. 

I’ve seen him move a piano from a truckbed to a living room without help.

I’ve seen him cut down trees and drag the entire elm to the fire pit singlehandedly. 

I’ve seen him take a van with a crushed front bumper and drive it over to a stump and somehow pull the front end away from the engine.  

But it is the smallest projects that make the most impact.  

Our littlest sees a bike on a pile of junk on the side of the road and points to it saying, “Dad I need a new bike. You can fix that one up. It will be like recycling.” No shiny bike from the local shop was going to carry this boy.  For fifty cents he had a bike in the trunk that could be fixed up with parts from Dad’s workshop.

Together, they stopped for new tubes for the tires, a can of spray paint for the body,  two new pedals.  Later,  a few turns of a wrench to raise the seat and some powerful cranking on the handle bars with the tire locked firmly between the knees of Super Dad and the addition of a shiny new kickstand make the youngest junk rescuer say, “Suhweet!”

I gripe about the stuff in the garage, the endless pulling of things from my garbage can, the dragging of twisted metal and dusty cast-offs to the man-cave but I have to admit, with the right tools and a little imagination,  he can make them happen with sheer muscle and a daddy-sized desire to make his kids happy.

 He is a father.  He is a fixer. He is a man with a garage,  a big garage, where he makes all mechanical wishes come true.


for childgrower blog, by A. Woz.

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