After 18 years living in a five year old house, there are bound to be some minor repair projects. One such problem was the banister at the top of the stairs. It wobbled like a twelve year old girl wearing her first pair of heels. "Nothing can be done" said my husband. "Nothing can be done" said our neighbor, the contractor. Last summer, I refused to believe these two normally quite knowledgeable men. So I unscrewed and hammered at it until I too gave up in despair and bemoaned that nothing indeed could be done.
Lo and behold two college men, aka DS#1 and DS#2 are home and tending to some household chores when I mention something about the railing and the fact that "nothing could be done." I had no sooner waved this obvious red flag in front of my testosterone driven tool men sons, when hammers, screwdrivers, putty knives and all sorts of metal implements appeared.
I was on the lower side of this picture, in my office, reading email, and talking with my sister. Suddenly from the hall came this creaking sound. The kind the passengers on a seagoing vessel probably heard just before the mast cracked in the midst of the hurricane's wind. As is the wont of young men, they acted without thought of damage nor repair.
Several times I expressed my concern and that "I was really worried about this." They assured me that it would be fine. (I am experiencing a sense of deja vu from the last five or six years with these two.) And indeed, they did manage to return all pieces of the original banister to their rightful place. No, they weren't able to tighten it rock-solid, but it is so much tighter and steadier than it was. So, these two young men have done what those older and more experienced had said "couldn't be done." Well done guys!