Hello, Pushkin

There are these nails in our floorboards that keep popping up. We've been meaning to fix them for ages. They're nasty little sock snaggers and, we figured, once Mae started crawling, would be horrible for her knees. This weekend, my husband got out the hammer to hammer them back into place.

Mae has never been the kind of baby who's bothered by loud noises (fire engines don't phase her, and we make a big game out of the coffee grinder every morning), so we weren't expecting her to mind the hammering... but we weren't expecting her to love it so much either. Every time my husband hammered a nail in she would start laughing hysterically. Just absolutely killing herself laughing. All but wiping a tear away with the back of her hand as if nail hammering were right up there at the top of the list of impossibly funny things in the world.

My husband ended up hammering in all of the problem nails, plus every other nail in the floor that was even sort of threatening to possibly pop up one day in the future. As long as she keeps finding this funny, it's safe to say I'll never have to nag my husband to fix anything (as long as it involves hammering) ever again!