A Rhino, a Nest and a Fork...

Since he was old enough to grip his fingers, Rhino has been holding wooden spoons, sticks and sprinkler parts. They are his favorite...toys? He likes them long, but not too long. Short but not too short and his favored concoction is a cut PVC pipe, slanted at one end and a yellow sprinkler stake sticking out the other end. He never leaves home without his stick and over the years he has replaced, added to and improvised with his collection.

His latest invention had no designated function but he says it could be a back scratcher- if I wanted to use it. A simple stick with a fork taped to the end of it, Rhino has developed a new line of eating utensils for any giant's needs.

I am happy to let Rhino use his imagination. Though I don't always understand what his purposes for them are and will probably never get the same thrill from collecting sticks and watching them move slowly past my eyes; I love watching him think.

Over the last few years, Rhino has used Mr. Zookeeper as his means of factory worker. When there is  stick to be made, an hour does not pass that Rhino, being ever so patient, doesn't walk past. Barely making eye contact and wiggling the stick in his fingers, Rhino does not allow Mr. Zookeeper to forget he has a job to do. Recently, I showed Rhino how to use a hand saw. I started the cutting and held the pipe while he finished it. (Side note:  if anyone is wanting to teach a child how to use a hand saw, PVC pipe is the best because the middle is hollow and so they get through it quicker.) After few minutes, Rhino was wearing a new face that could be labeled satisfaction and new found pride. Naturally, I had to buy a lot more piping to feed the new talent. I gradually backed off on how much assistance I provided and surprised, Rhino says, "Geez, cutting takes time and it's hard work!"  Yeah, we've been trying to tell him that for years as he nonchalantly walked past our bedroom reminding us of our duties.

Naturally, after that first pipe got severed- Paul Bunyan was re-born. Literally. Rhino suggested that he could be the next Paul Bunyan because he was so good at cutting things. I suggested he talk less and pay more attention so that I didn't have to become the next Florence Nightingale!

With Rhino meeting one more of his own needs and the other kids just happy to play in the sunshine, it was time for me to get to work. The said children playing in the sunshine were content to do so in nothing but their underwear but I, along with the neighbors, object. With school coming to an end for the year, I too finished up another semester of my own schooling. Finals week (2 of them), with the addition of a traveling husband, strep throat and Women's Conference was a busy time. My pile of laundry was so high that I considered taking pictures and charging admission to see the next wonder of the world. I contemplated carving out faces, it worked for Mt. Rushmore but Tiger insisted it made a much better jungle/ landing pad/ sand box/ nest.

Speaking of nests, my old nemesis was back. It usually takes me a couple of loads to discover that my dryer is just not drying right. Maybe it's because I'm prone to over load the dryer in attempts to get done sooner or that I am buzzing by so quickly that I scarcely remember even pushing the start button- but after a few loads, I know it's not just me! Or at least that is what I keep telling myself!

With Mr. Zookeeper home from out of town work- I took cues from Rhino and constantly walked past Mr. Zookeeper mentioning that surely there must be yet another bird making a nest in my dryer duct and "someone" needed to get a ladder and pull the thing out. After running out of laundry himself and nearly being forced to play outside in his underwear, Mr. Zookeeper grabbed his ladder and utensils to play animal rescue. Sure enough, after mounds of straw, lint, feathers and who knows what that green stuff was, Mr. Zookeeper pulled out four- no make that three- eggs. Tiger helped so then there were two. Puppy made a new nest for the eggs and carefully Mr. Zookeeper placed them in their new safe place. Unfortunately, Tiger can climb trees. Puppy was distraught, so I let her help me fold laundry.

Fast forward one week.

Finally getting some check marks on my to do list, I begin to grin with the pride that comes from tackling major chores. Then, my laundry started slowing me down, again. Mr. Zookeeper had mentioned there was parts of the nest he couldn't reach and I knew this must be the culprit. I could hear theme music play as I envisioned the mother bird throwing back her head in a villainous hackle, knowing she had gotten the last laugh. I couldn't stand the thought of defeat but even more so I feared the repercussions. One load today turns into two tomorrow and before you know it, I have lost the battle and we are forever swimming through dumped out baskets (thank you Tiger) of clothes never again knowing which ones are clean and which ones are not! And not all of us look as good naked as Tigers and Monkeys do.

I had to act. But wait, Mr. Zookeeper was out town!  I could wait until he returned or I could take matter into my hands. I am afraid of heights so climbing a seven foot ladder definitely deserved some theme music for my heroic efforts. I put on my gloves (I can do a lot more things with gloves on) and assessed the situation. Sure enough, the nest was not completely dissolved. But how would I reach it? Mr. Zookeeper has longer arms and actually stood up tall on the ladder where I was bent over holding on to dear life with only a puppy holding my ladder for stability. I hung my head in despair (and to stop my phobia from painting the picture of me plunging to to my death) but refused to give up. "Come on Mom," Puppy chanted, "we can do it!"  Easy for her to say, she was safe on the ground!

Monkey quickly brought out every utensil and tool from the kitchen (hence why my house is an ever evolving cleaning classroom) and we shoved, dug and made grunting noises trying to reach the blockage. Then, we saw it. It might have been the glare of the sun on the air conditioning unit but I saw it as an answer from above... or below. What we needed was a stick- but not just any stick, we needed a stick with a fork on the end of it!

Rhino quickly rose to the challenge and within minutes we had slayed the giant, freed the laundry from bondage and saved all of the neighborhood from having to witness our embarrassing battle or lack of wardrobe changes. Indeed, Rhino's inventions have finally paid off! So, while most people stock up on the perfect detergents and snugly softeners, we'll be adding a stick and fork to our list of laundry essentials. I suggested we call it the Dryer Nest Abolitionist but Rhino prefers FORKINATOR. He insisted it was all Caps- because his teacher told him that adds a strong voice, and you can't say FORKINATOR with a sissy voice any more than you can clean out a dryer vent ten feet in the air without theme music.

Maybe some day you'll see Rhino's inventions on infomercials and all of the long hours of sawing and searching for my stolen forks will pay for our extensive ketchup bill. But for now I'll keep these little treasures for myself (and my cleaning closet). Besides, I need to get some laundry done before booking any appearances on the Home Shopping Network...