I will see what I can work up in the way of a spy kit diagram. Meanwhile, I can tell you that a barrel o’ monkeys’ worth of fun can be had with the magnet alone, which just happens to be the self-same one at the business end of my Baba’s Little Helper v.2.0, pictured in action here.

Any chance of some kind of a spy kit diagram just in case we accidentally make a rocket launcher or strange torture device from the constituent parts you describe? I was always such an attentive student when my Dad was inventing things, changing the car tyres, fixing the lawnmower etc etc.

Why saddle oneself with the yoke of improvement when, by breaking the gender steroetype one is freed to enjoy the feminine/ masculine pick’n'mix?

I’ll bet you’re loving the toys from the hardware store column that’s been making a regular appearance at Mombian. You should write up the spy kit and see if Dana’ll put it up!

I must say, with no experience potty training girls, it seems logistically simpler with boys–having the whole aim-and-shoot advantage. Max seemed to think it was pretty neat to melt a hole in the snow during an emergency stop on a road trip this winter. . . See what you have to look forward to? OK–minus the snow!

Over Christmas, I felt like we were finally, officially done with it all. Then, school started again and she and a little boyfriend of hers decided to have a literal pissing contest (a joyful one) each day which resulted in numerous bags of wet clothes coming home. Thankfully, the teacher put an end to that somehow and things are back to, well, I should stop now or jinx it all.

You are in the home stretch, my friend!

One variant on the dreaming was that, on special occasions, we’d go there with $10 or even $20 (USD), and we’d see what fun adventuresome things we could purchase and come home and make. One of my favorite gifts I gave my nephews was a “spy kit,” all of which was purchased at the hardware store: a small flashlight and a very strong magnet at the end of one of those key chain thingies that attach to a belt and have a long, spring-loaded chain on ‘em. The kind that the janitor wore in my Elementary School. They were befuddled for the first 12 hours, then each of them played with theirs for months, if not years. After several years and trans-Atlantic moves, my younger nephew — the surviving one — still knows where his is.

Part of taking them with, to my mind, has to do with the lesbian dad being an improvement on aspects of the stereotypical, regular one, who has typically been more preoccupied with things than with people. Meaning that, for the lesbian dad, some of the absolute necessities of masculinity are redefined.

Now, a trip to a cafe to read and write. So far, that’s a solo jaunt. But hope springs eternal. (Dreamy image: the both of ‘em sipping their herbal teas, lost in their books or their writing.)

Mmh still doing grown up things with children in tow. Are you ever tempted to go the whole hog with the mannish lesbian thing and make a play for hardware shopping to be something that is, of course, an absolute necessity, impossible to do with children??

It’s even better when they pee in the car and the car chair is completely wasted. We had to fashion one on holiday from a blanket and the car chair frame after such an incident.

I’m glad to report that we are day-dry since April 2007, but extremely night-wet… We’ve been told that this may last until she is six. Ack. More diapers. So much for our ecological footprint, eh.

As for the hardware store: it’s my SO’s first stop when she goes home. She bemoans the absence of Home Depot in Europe.

And sister Chicory: say it ain’t so! Three times! Recidivism? I can’t bear the thought of it. Thanks for the diaper tip. Her T-shirt didn’t quite provide the protective barrier I’d hoped for.