I've begun planning the earliest stages of work on a sooper-secret project for the house. It's a DIY project that I'll post progress on as I get it underway, because you're going to be jealous and want one too. It's that good. I've told my Bride that she'll just have to humor me as I purchase various bits necessary, as this is the price for me having to leave all my beloved power saws behind in the US.
Anyway, I did an initial reconnoiter of the local electronics supply shops with the Critter this past weekend. I was carrying her around as I looked at some cabling and other toys (as a preventive measure. She's heavy, but I've found that store management frowns upon small children unlikely to have their own credit cards wandering their stores unsupervised) . As I pulled one new router out, she said with all the authority and patience of a two-and-a-half year old "Put that back, Daddy. You have plenty at home."
When did my little baby girl turn into an extension of the Double X Chromosome police squad? Is it in the genes, or are they secretly whisking her off to training when I'm not paying attention?
I told her mother about this, and my bride just looked at me.
"You do, you know."
"I do what?"
"Have plenty at home."
"Hard to argue with her when she's right."
"But she's two!"
"And even a two year old can tell you have too much crap. What does that tell you?"
It sucks being outnumbered.