We built our house in Maine. I say "we" in a loose sense. It was my Dad's work of art but we kids were able to help with a few things. Have I mentioned the hauling of the wood?
One sunny day we were out on the build site and Dad handed us three kids hammers and nails. Free child labor! Our job was to nail the plywood subfloor to the basement beams. We started hammering diligently, a nail every few inches following the penciled line on the plywood.
Of course, the task turned into a small competition to see who could pound faster.
We were neck and neck until Ben let out a shout. Two hits and his nail was all the way in! Gretchen and I hurried over not believing him and demanding proof. He set up the next nail, gripped the hammer firmly and took a cleansing breath.
The nail disappeared into the wood, the head flush with the floor.
Amazing! Do it again just to make sure!
Again, the nail was firmly planted in the wood. We looked at him in awe. Our brother was the Karate Kid! Ben proceeded to show off, testing his strength with another 20 nails and offering us tips as we tried to summon our own inner strength.
Excited over his new found skill and sure that Dad would be thrilled with it (and want to put him to real work. Imagine how quickly the house could take shape!) we called him over to watch Ben OWN the nail. Dad listened with amusement as we explained what had happened while Ben set up a demonstration. When the nail went into the wood like butter his eyebrows shot up in disbelief.
He took a closer look at what we'd been doing.
Turns out that penciled line wasn't a guide for where the beam was underneath... We went down into the basement and looked up at the new ceiling. A line of nails was poking through the plywood hitting nothing but air!
Sorry Ben, no Karate Kid for you. But man, it was exciting when we thought it was true!