I suppose there is no getting around it. My boys have their Grandpa's genes for fixing things. Whether it is a torn shirt, a ripped piece of paper, or a broken bike, the boys run for the hammer and screwdriver, oh, and the drill, of course.The other night, after tucking Luke into bed, I returned to put Adam into bed. I couldn't figure out what the whirring sound was coming from Luke's crib. I peeked under his blanket, and there he was: sucking on a bottle and in the other hand, operating his battery powered screwdriver. I am a mother of boys. What can I say?
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