Dylan just turned 5, which was greeted with jubilation, a big party and far too many toys that require some assembly.
My fate in putting things together was sealed at a young age. When I was about 12, I took an aptitude test which showed that I was a real winner in the area of reading comprehension, but the counselor sadly informed me I scored in the third percentile in spatial relations. Not 1/3 as in 33 percent but as in 3% -- basically 97 percent of the population is more skilled than me in tasks that involve placing shapes in differing positions or in putting together something that only requires, say, a screwdriver. I probably did not want to consider a future in, say, engineering.
So it should come as no shock when my friend Daliana phoned me and asked how I was doing. My reply—“I’m in Hot Wheels hell."
I had been toiling for oh, two hours, on some track that was supposed to easily fit together. Whoever wrote these directions, or should I say, crummy pictures with very little verbiage, should take those Hot Wheels tracks and, well, ahem, since this is a family webpage, we’ll just leave it to our imaginations…
Daliana and her son Raul, also 5, wanted to drop by a gift which they assured me did not require assembly. They arrive and Raul spies the misplaced tracks and he accomplishes more in 5 minutes than I could in two hours. He’s gleefully snapping things together and is putting together something that actually resembles a race track. Cars are in motion, Dylan and Raul are having a great time and I am feeling thrilled that the darn thing is put together and somewhat lame that I've been outdone by a 5-year old.
Luckily we only received one other Hot Wheels gift – feeling overly optimistic I opened it up and thought I could put it together. The mom who gave it to me said it was so easy to put together. Same kind of stupid instructions. Heightened levels of frustration. Perhaps I will call Raul over for a play date.