I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “Gee, I’ll bet Joe spent three-plus hours Sunday night putting together the Play Wonder Kitchen Set for his youngest daughter’s birthday.” Yeah, that’s right, I did that … you know, it’s never a good sign when you open up a “some assembly required box,” and the instructions fall out, and the first thing you see on them is, no joke, “Step 27.”
My feeling on it is this: Nothing in this world with the possible exception of a heart transplant or building a nuclear device should be complicated enough to demand 27 steps. Heck, you’re supposed to kick alcoholism in 12. Twenty seven steps, man, at the end of that I should be a fully ordained minister or an FBI agent or something. Then, I’m taking out the various pieces of this kitchen set out of the box and … there are more pieces. And more. And more. There are so many pieces in there that the alphabet doesn’t have enough letters to label them all, they’ve got pieces of wood marked “AK” and “QR” — people, this is a TOY. I’m not sauteing Chilean Sea Bass on it. It’s for a 3 year old to make pretend Chicken McNuggets, which is pretty much Katie’s make-believe specialty. I don’t believe it needs a convection setting or a warming tray.
I’ll give you an idea about this monster toy: There were 10 different kinds of screws. OK? TEN DIFFERENT KINDS OF SCREWS. Who am I, Bob Vila? I’m sorry, but when you’re selling something that demands you use 10 different screws, that needs to be marked quite clearly on the box. As in, “Don’t buy this toy unless you have a masters in Electrical Engineering from Stanford.” I mean, look, if I have to do that much work to build a toy, then the Play Wonder people should pay me a salary.
Here’s the thing though: I had to do it. Why? I’m a Dad. And Dads are supposed to know how to do stuff like build toys developed by NASA. That’s just the way I grew up. Dads fix stuff. Dads mow lawns. Dads take your temperature by checking your pulse and doing some sort of secret mathematical calculation that I’ve never learned. Dads control the thermostat*. Dads can fall asleep at any time. Dads never know where anything is. Dads juggle and perform a few basic magic tricks and groan when they get up from the couch and teach you how to keep score and know how to oil a baseball glove and have a large arsenal of corny jokes at their disposal.
*Jerry Seinfeld has a great bit on Dads and thermostats. I love Seinfeld, of course. I’m not sure, though, it was all that wise for him to go on Letterman and compare the woman who is suing his wife for plagiarism with the guy who killed Martin Luther King Jr. I understand being ticked off and all, but I generally think it’s a good idea to keep your comedic insults on the lucid side of James Earl Ray. That’s just some friendly advice I would offer, you know, if Jerry would be my friend.
I have after 41 years of training as a guy developed many of the Dad skills and habits. I mow the lawn. I can do that rudimentary, “Oh look, the quarter was in your ear,” trick that would never work on anyone older than 6. I could fall asleep typing this sentence. And though my daughters have so far shown absolutely no interest in baseball, I will teach them how to oil a glove. I will. I don’t even think you’re supposed to oil these new gloves, but I don’t care. We’re oiling gloves at some point.
But I’ve never had the ability to fix anything. I have gotten by as a plodder — give me several hours, an electric screwdriver with some battery power left and three trips to the Lowe’s, and I’ll generally get it done (assuming “it” is something like hanging a picture on a wall). I’ve made a few token attempts to get smarter about fixing things. I’ve watched a few shows on the “Do-It Yourself” Network and whatever that Tim Allen show was called. I’ve stood behind various professionals hired to fix the plumbing or and watched every single thing they’re doing and asked moronic questions until they finally give me that “OK, you are freaking me out, go away,” look. No use. I still have no idea how to fix anything more complicated than a tuna sandwich.
That said — a Dad’s gotta do what a Dad’s gotta do. I spent three-plus hours Sunday night studying those utterly baffling instructions, cursing, working through all those steps (and a few extra ones), losing screws, rereading those instructions, cursing, etc. And after all that, after finally figuring everything out and putting pieces together and wearing out the battery on my electric screwdriver I actually made it to the point where I had to start over because I was reading everything backward. Then I did start over and I went through all the steps and I used one of those non-electric screwdrivers (what are those called again?) and you know what? I built that kitchen set. I must say that it looks pretty good, though of course it could look like something on the set of Sanford and Son, and I wouldn’t really care. I’m not touching that thing again.
Now my hands are raw. My fingers are numb. My back is killing me. But here’s what I’m thinking. Monday morning, in a few hours, my Katie will wake up at whatever ungodly hour she decides to wake up. She will rush downstairs, and she will see her new kitchen. And, unless my hunch is wrong, she won’t think, “Wow, why does the microwave hinge show” or “I think he could have used a couple fewer screws when fastening the back.” No, I suspect she will think, “There’s my kitchen, it’s awesome. My Dad can fix anything.” And maybe that’s the trick to this whole Dad business. Work while they’re sleeping. And hope for the best.
Editor’s note: Photographic proof was demanded and is now delivered. If you want an close-up view of what the kitchen set is supposed to look like (and, I think, mostly does) you can go to Margo’s blog and check it out.
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32 Comments, Comment or Ping
jim willoughby's 'do
joe,
while you dont strike me as someone who takes comfort in the (greater) misfortune of others, allow me to point out that it could have been worse: there could have been TWO kitchen sets. i know this because, as you may have guessed, i have 18 month-old twins…and the first thing you learn about twins is that they want whatever the other one has, which means you have to get two of everything (otherwise, your house becomes the gaza strip). in other words, imagine that when you finally finished tonight you were only HALFWAY DONE! sure, you learn a few things putting the first one together so it’s not quite as bad the second time around, but even then you’re screwed because how do you decide who gets the “good (second)” one & who gets the one on which you made all the mistakes? that being said, those pretend mcnuggets are pretty tasty, arent they?
Jan 28th, 2008
Mike S
After all that effort, you’re not going to put up a picture of the kitchen set?
Jan 28th, 2008
robustyoungsoul
Agree with Mike. As the internet says: “Pics or it didn’t happen.”
Jan 28th, 2008
Jeff P.
I can in all honesty say been there, done that. Christmas Eve, 1996. I put together a kitchen set for my 3 yr old daughter. I stayed up til 2am working on that darn thing. The funny part is that until I read your post I had forgotten all about how time consuming it was, all I ever remembered was the look of joy on her face Christmas morning. This dad thing has its rewards.
Jan 28th, 2008
Chipmaker
Happy birthday to your Katie, Joe. My oldest, also a girl, hits six today. Hard to believe.
I had to assemble a toy chest/bench this Christmas Eve past, and while the hardware assortment was pretty amazing, I managed it within an hour. Not so many parts, really, just scads of fixtures. And I had to do it, for no sane reasons, in a bathroom. With manual, right-handed screwdrivers, as my electric simply didn’t have the reach or the compact size to be helpful.
I’d add one step to your assembly-required toy mandates: the manufacturer can bedazzle with many different screws, but they should all be compatible with the same, one screwdriver. That’s not asking so much really.
Jan 28th, 2008
Marty Winn
I did this same thing 2 weeks ago for my daughter turning 2. I think mine is somewhat less complicated than yours. It took 3 hours and one of the doors did not shut right but she seems to like it. This project was performed from 11 PM to 2 AM on a Friday night with everyone else asleep. Boy, those directions stink. The best part is that they don’t use words so that they can sell the set to anyone, anywhere. I’ve got an EE degree from Georgia Tech but it does not at all qualify me to put this thing together.
Jan 28th, 2008
Royalfan
Check Margo’s page for a picture of Joe’s masterpiece.
Jan 28th, 2008
Paul White
Was there an Allen wrench involved, Joe? Or, better yet, was an Allen wrench required on a screw that was located such that you couldn’t actually turn the Allen wrench? That’s the calling card of real sado-engineers. If that step wasn’t required, then whoever engineered Katie’s kitchen set was a poseur.
Anyway, welcome to the club. I did the midnight kitchen set thing a couple of years ago, when my Katie was 6. It’s a right of passage for any father of girls.
Jan 28th, 2008
Brian
My favorite steps when putting something together like this are the steps they don’t tell you about:
Step 1: See that mini wrench we gave you? Throw it in the garbage. There’s no way that thing is going to be any help whatsoever, so you’re better off throwing it away now so you’re not tempted to use it.
Step 7: Use a 1″ drill bit to widen the hole for the bolt we gave you because there’s no way that bolt is going to fit in there. We would have made the hole the correct size, but then what would have become of step #7? If you do not have a 1″ drill bit, and let’s face it, why would you, stick a steak knife in there and spin it around in circles until you’ve made it wide enough, or until you’ve ruined your steak knife (whichever comes first).
Step 15: Stick Rod B into Hole A without laughing.
Step 21: Are you still reading this? There’s only a couple more steps left and your little project isn’t looking anything like that picture on the box yet. I’m getting nervous for you.
Step 23: Well you’re done. How does it look? Your back hurts, doesn’t it? Go to the fridge and grab a handful of beers. Proceed to Step 1 again tomorrow after you’ve cooled off.
Jan 28th, 2008
Tim Lacy
Joe’s experience struck a chord. I’ll be a dad any day now (literally). In the course of regular preparations I had to put together a dresser/changing table combo from Target. I have a lot of experience with tools and putting things together, but the box alone intimidated me: 7′ long by 2.5′ wide by 8″ thick. Upon opening I discovered that this would take about 30 steps. It had about 30 pieces and came with 20 bags of screws and various small pieces (i.e. dowels, plastic insertions). It took me 3 hours to get the damn thing together.
Moral of the story? Always buy changing table/dresser combos that are already put together. - TL
Jan 28th, 2008
Tim Lacy
Oh, and my furniture experience DID involve a bleeping Allen wrench. - TL
Jan 28th, 2008
Dan
You Dads are making me more and more happy with our decision to stick to the canine “children”.
They give you a look of joy every morning, no assembly required.
Jan 28th, 2008
River Otter
As a dad of three, I can sympathize. But the look on their face when you’re finished (like your daughter’s) always makes it worthwhile. Even if they spend less time playing with the toy than it took to “assemble.”
Also, I have to agree with Paul about the allen wrench. It’s never sufficiently frustrating unless there’s an allen wrench involved.
Jan 28th, 2008
Justyo
Hilarious. We were literally just contemplating buying this kitchen set for our little guy. Now I am thinking twice. Great Comment Paul - the last item purchased from - dare I say it - IKEA - had several of those perplexing sado-engineering impossible to fit the allen wrench in the right place moments… And my wife wonders why it doesn’t sit quite right.
Jan 28th, 2008
Mike
I’m 26 years old, pay $1300 a month to have a roof over my head in Cambridge MA, and your 3 year old daughter has a bigger kitchen than me.
Jan 28th, 2008
Oddibe Kerfeld
Joe,
That’s good stuff. I’ve got a 6 month old daughter, so I’m sure I’ll be putting together stuff like that in a few years. I’m actually looking forward to it. I’m also already trying my best to make her into a baseball fan.
Jan 28th, 2008
Ryan
One of the many reasons, Mike-15, not to live in anywhere near New England or New York.
Jan 28th, 2008
Andrew
I was really hoping that when my dad-days kicked off that this skill would magically appear. Sad to hear that it won’t be…although she looks ecstatic anyway, so maybe it doesn’t matter so much.
Jan 28th, 2008
metz
As the father of 4 daughters I can state with some authority that the assembly tasks only get bigger, with more moving parts and higher cost.
I am a fix it guy, I do home tile work, plumbing, carpentry and general construction and putting together Ikea furniture still gives me fits. Two weeks ago I was on my 2nd Ikea bed assembly for the older girls when I came upon the dreaded missing part. Just a word of advice….don’t forget to get the hamar whenever you purchase a bed from them…
Jan 28th, 2008
Brian
My father still likes to tell us the story of the Christmas Eve he was up until 5 AM putting our stuff together (not that any of us remember what it might have been). And then, of course, we woke my parents up at 7 for presents. Thank God for Santa.
Jan 28th, 2008
Kyle
I sympathize with Mike (15). Not only is your daughters kitchen bigger it’s also a helluva lot nicer than mine.
Jan 28th, 2008
G Young
Joe,
Might I mention a very important corollary to the “Why? I’m a Dad.” principle. This would be when your own father presents gifts such as the kitchen set to his grandchildren.
I get the feeling there is nothing a father takes more glee in than watching his son struggle to put together a gift. At least that’s the feeling I have now had on several such occasions when my parents come bearing gifts.
At some point, grandparents should be barred from purchasing “some assembly required” packages and limit themselves to dolls, clothing, and cash.
Jan 28th, 2008
Josh in DC
My daughter’s 8 months and 17 days old today.
I just felt entitled to say so.
Jan 28th, 2008
ian
as a soon-to-be dad, and someone who recently put together two IKEA bedside tables (23 steps each), i really appreciate this post. nice work, joe.
Jan 28th, 2008
Robmarie
Wow — that is one KICK-ASS kitchen!! Here I was, for some reason, expecting some sort of Playskool-looking thing… but this is AWESOME!
As for my dad… When I was six, I asked for a play house. He promised he would build it… that was fifteen years ago. Now he better build me a real one!
Jan 28th, 2008
Pokey Joe
Can I get a six piece nugget Mighty Kids meal w/chocolate milk and maybe, if they aren’t bitter for a change, the apple dippers? Yup, thanks. Oh, the toy is for a boy. Yeah, you too.
Jan 28th, 2008
John
In October I purchased a new dresser from Ikea form my 2 yr. old son. I believe it had 325 assorted screws, bolts, odd Swedish machine parts and about 50 separate pieces to assemble. The fact that my father in law and I successfully put it together with only one mistake and no extra parts or not enough parts is the equivalent, for me at least, of pitching a no-hitter and hitting for the cycle in the same day.
Jan 28th, 2008
Minda
Sounds like you guys would appreciate this classic article from Jay Pinkerton: http://www.jaypinkerton.com/ikea.php
Joe, that is a kitchen worthy of envy. Good work.
Jan 28th, 2008
Jim Stearns
I would have never seen this had my 29 year old daughter not forwarded it to me. You have divulged “Dad Secrets” which could spoil our image.
It is a great article and it brings back lots of great memories of tab A and slot B projects. Thanks
Jan 28th, 2008
Jay S in CoMo
I was trying to write a comment to this story, but I was on my laptop in an overstuffed chair so… ZZZZzzzz.
My 15 month old boy is not quite ready for a kitchen of his own, though he sits and stirs a plastic bowl with a big plastic spoon with a very curious look on his face anytime I’m in there cooking. So who knows?
Thanks for a great look at Dads, Joe.
Jan 29th, 2008
Doctor Tom
My worst dad experience involved putting together a scooter with handbrakes on Christmas Eve. Screw up handbrakes and your child goes over the handlebars loses teeth and never trusts you again.
After hours of fooling with it, I call in the pros. My neighbor Steve who fixed Hueys for the Nebraska Air National Guard.
Two hours later and we have made no progress. Brakes are never right, but child loses interest in scooters thank god. What a waste of time and money and pride! They went out of fashion for a reason, but you can’t convince a wife of something like that.
Said daughter will turn 18 next week and is deciding on colleges. My next trick as a father will be to figure out how to pay for this last child’s education without working until I’m 75.
Joe, congratulations. The hard work is just beginning.
Jan 30th, 2008
Creston
“one of those non-electric screwdrivers (what are those called again?)”
Uhmm… A screwdriver?
Good job Joe. I hate putting things together. I always do something wrong, but never figure out that I did it wrong until I’ve proceeded beyond the Point Of Recovery. Such as our one bookcase that has a shelf upside-down. Which I didn’t realize until I’d already hammered the back onto the bookcase with 17,986,342 nails.
I especially love instructions that tell you to take that weird looking “thing”, of which you have absolutely NO IDEA what it is, what it does, or how it does what you don’t understand what it does, and then “insert Flux Converter Scotty-1 into hole B so that screw F3 can pivot in an inverted counter-clockwise Garridan Motion to fasten Divot Z34 from Shelf T11a^3.”
And you’re like, “wait… Hole B?”
Urgh. My wife and I want to buy a Bowflex. It looks like a fabulous machine to work out on. It also comes in TWELVE BOXES. And the instructions make a lot of suspicious references to the International Space Station…
She keeps wanting to buy it. And I keep telling her that if we do, I will have no chance of ever putting the damn thing together, so we’d buy a group of twelve boxes for our 1000 bucks.
Jan 30th, 2008
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