Am I totally aging myself if I do a post that refers to MacGyver?
For those of you youngins, MacGyver was a show back in the 80s. I was fascinated by the show. It was basically about this guy, MacGyver, who was a secret agent. He'd go on all these special missions. The guy could escape anything and anyone using a few random things and his Swiss Army knife. He'd be able to make a bomb to get himself out of a bulletproof, soundproof safe by using ear wax and pocket lint. He'd be able to whip up a compass using a pencil and rubber band, so he could find his way back to the drop-off point. The guy was a genius. The guy was awesome!
Somewhere along our evolution as human beings, we were blessed with the MacGyver gene. Granted, this gene does not automatically turn on once a child is ripped from a women's body and the umbilical cord cut off. The gene remains dormant. It's buried deep in our chromosomes and one day emerges.
How else could you explain how we are able to entertain our children using Tupperware and a couple pencils? Voila, a drum set. Grab that mixing spoon and you have yourself a mic.
Who else turn couch cushions into a fort or castle?
The MacGyver parent can turn an empty box into a boat. The laundry basket into a rocket ship.
Like I said before, MacGyver was awesome, but once the MacGyver gene kicks in, a parent is a hero!