Why I’m not favorite

Back when we were  dating, Joe & I took my grandma (the crazy one, not the one on the farm) out for the day. Before we left, she asked us to fix her broken frame. While I was in the middle of the thing, jamming the pieces back together, we somehow got into a conversation about how I’m not her favorite grandchild. This would be bad enough normally, but seeing as I’m her only grandkid, well, it’s extra awesome. I’m almost her favorite, and she does love me a ton, just not as much as Joe. 😉

Well, he decided to further cement his place as favorite over the weekend by fixing her leaking sink & won’t-stop-running hose. Dad started the sink project before Joe arrived, then the two of them tinkered away until the thing stopped dripping. Apparently this faucet has the mixing valve held together by springs and the water flowers when the springs…. Oh, hell, I have no idea. I was baby wrangling and in the midst of a tea party. Anyway, something was not lining up right. They tinkered it into working properly. Then Joe made his “Zelda pose” complete worth sound effect to celebrate.

I have even less of an idea about the hose issue. He voodoo-ed it into working, too. So here is a picture of success. A non dripping faucet. I’m off to sleep (hear that baby? Sleep. Sleeeeep. Mommy will sound less nutso if we sleep. Ok, probably not, but lets sleep anyway.)



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