Yesterday I was working on the base for a piece I’m making (yes, it involves rubber chickens), which required me to do one of my least favorite things: finishing wood. I don’t hate finishing wood because it’s difficult or tedious, I just don’t like the heavy fumes and the mess. I was finishing the base for my art project, but I was also staining a couple pieces of trim that we needed to install following my wife having done an incredible job refinishing the wood mantle of the fireplace. Things were going smoothly, until they weren’t.
The exact moment I knew that the can of stain was tipping over and would spill just sucked. Of course I swore loudly, that’s what you do, but then something unexpected and wonderful happened. My 15-year-old son came running downstairs. No questions asked, no hesitation, he just jumped in and started grabbing shop towels and wiping up stain. He didn’t complain, he didn’t object, he just jumped in and was incredibly helpful.
He pointed out that there was stain spilled on some of the work pieces, so I went ahead and finished staining the pieces while it was wet–no need to waste stain or let a piece of trim go to waste–and then I cleaned up the tables so I could let them keep curing. All-in-all, my son spent nearly an hour helping me wipe up all of the wood stain that I had spilled. The basement floor still has some stain on it, but it goes with the whole “murder basement” aesthetic that we’re going for (cherry wood stain, y’all), and we’ll have to mop it up with mineral spirits over the weekend, that’ll be smelly.
I’ve been reflecting on this a bunch since it happened, and I learned to never work out of the can of stain directly; instead use a small bucket or bowl so there’s less that can spill if it does. I was reminded that a bias for action can be really helpful.
My son has a beautiful heart, and a drive to be helpful that is often easy to miss if you’re not watching. I’m so glad I was watching.
PS: The wood pieces came out great.