I never put together puzzles. In fact, I think it's safe to say I dislike them. The biggest puzzle I've ever in my life completed was 100 pieces, and that's because my kids like it. They ask me several times before I relent and help them. But for some odd, odd reason, I decided I would pull the only other puzzle we own out of the cupboard and give it a go. I mean, just because I've been bored silly and/or frustrated by every other puzzle I've ever put together, doesn't mean I will feel that way about every one I will ever try. Right?
So, I got the box down and rattled the 750 pieces around a little. Just to loosen them up. I didn't want any of them stuck together prematurely. That would be cheating.
Moving aside the table decoration, I began finding all the tiny pieces with flat edges. Evidently, when there are 750 pieces in the whole thing, there will be a fair few with flat edges. And a lot of flat edges that don't want to be found.
I babysit my four year-old niece five days a week, and since she's with us so much and looks just like my other children, we all kind of treat her like one of the family. So, my niece sat next to me and talked to me for a while. Then she said, "Mandi, can I help you put together that puzzle?"
"Oh." She got down and wandered the house for a minute or two, then came back over to ask again if she could help me.
"No." This was not something I was finding easy, and I didn't want any sticky little fingers gumming up my works.
Again, she got down and wandered some more. When she came back the third time, I knew what to expect. "Can I help you put that together?"
"But why can't I help you put the puzzle together? Oh. I know why. Because you're a grumpy old woman."
After I stopped laughing, I said, "That's exactly right. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will be to get along with me."
I never did finish the puzzle. I never even finished the border. I probably should have taken her up on the offer to help, since I obviously needed it.