Boys think differently to girls. Kristine told me that a few nights ago, and backed it up with science. It totally changed my way of thinking, because I’d never heard that before…
Angus, playing electrician
Of course, she was talking about Angus, but some of the science related to me. Apparently men take longer to develop a left brain. Kristine said all the evidence suggests my left brain hasn’t caught up to her left brain yet. As she explained the science further, I could see the evidence.
After working hard two days out of three to finish the carport, I went to see a mate about fluorescent lights, two of them. By midday, my right brain got in the way of clear thinking. Despite the aching body, my right brain was anxious. The lights had to be installed. Sundown was the deadline.
I’m not an electrician. That didn’t matter. I have tools and a stepladder. Kristine, with her better developed left brain, didn’t find watching me stand on a ladder and swear all that enthralling.
Three feet off the ground, balancing on two rungs, I asked her to get me a drill.
‘Which one,’ she asked. It was a fair question, given there were two on the table.
‘The power drill,’ I said.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘The one with the chord.’ Trying not to sound sarcastic didn’t work.
She handed it to me. ‘I’m going upstairs to make Angus’s dinner. He can stay here with you.’
‘I’m installing lights,’ I said. ‘I won’t be able to watch him.’
‘Angus will be fine.’ She went, and took her better developed left brain. I lost a helper because my right brain can’t help the sarcasm. Kristine knew what a power drill was. I knew that, but I think my right brain is locked in automatic smartarse.
I often wish my left brain would override the right side.
My boy watched me work, up and down the ladder, holes being drilled, heard the odd curse and wanted to help.
‘Daddy,’ he said, holding out a screwdriver.
‘No buddy,’ I said.
He took another screwdriver from the table. ‘Daddy,’ he said, holding it out.
‘I don’t need that mate.’ I got down and moved the ladder.
Angus looked confused then frowned at the screwdrivers, before holding one out.
I was up the ladder. Wires needed to be cut. The pliers were on the table. On various occasions, when Angus has been in the garage with me, I’ve given him the pliers to play with and showed him how they work.
‘Angus, can you get daddy the pliers?’ I pulled the cable through the hole.
Angus looked at the table and transferred the screwdriver in his right hand to his left. Clutching two screwdrivers, he picked up the pliers and hustled to the ladder, handing them to me.
Later during the install, with Angus still offering me screwdrivers, I asked him for the roll of blue insulation tape. He studied the table, picked up the hacksaw and came to the ladder.
I told him to put the hacksaw on the ground. Angus dropped it and stepped away from it.
‘The tape,’ I said, pointing at the table. He stared at the table, confused. ‘Round,’ I said, making a circle with my finger.
He picked up the tape measure, a tool he had played with many times.
‘No mate. The blue tape.’
Angus put the tape measure down and tried to pick up the jigsaw. I snipped excess wire. ‘Not that mate. Put it down. The tape is blue and round.’
By virtue of elimination, because there was nothing else he hadn’t picked up, Angus gathered the tape and brought it to me.
He doesn’t know how to distinguish colour yet, and I’ve never heard him say round. But, with the pliers as a guide, he will learn.
Angus went upstairs for dinner about five. Kristine brought him down about 5.30pm. He walked around beneath the carport, playing with the tape measure, pliers and cordless drill.
About 6.20pm, I asked Kristine for ten more minutes, to wire the lights into the switch. She told me to finish the lights. Angus could stay up a little longer.
With the power off, I pulled the switch off the wall. My right brain was suddenly confused. I called Bill, my father.
‘The earth and neutral aren’t wired, they are soldered,’ I said.
‘That’s right,’ Bill said. ‘You don’t need to earth lights.’
‘Do I use the two-screw BP connector for earth or neutral?’
‘Earth,’ Bill said. ‘Have you got a multi-tester?’
‘No.’
‘I bought you one,’ Bill said. ‘Don’t wire it up until I come down. You need to test it.’
Bill gave me a multi-tester for Christmas years ago. I don’t think I used it. It became one of those things in life that just go missing.
I put the active into the switch, following exactly what the electrician had done. ‘No worries,’ I said to Bill, then went beneath the house and turned the power on.
‘Let me come down and test it,’ Bill said.
I flicked the switch. The lights worked. ‘Don’t worry about coming down,’ I said. ‘They’re on.’
Kristine and I had a drink beneath the carport. Angus looked up and tried to say lights, then spent half an hour climbing up and down the step ladder. Only once did he slip, face-planting from the bottom rung.
For a moment, his bottom lip dropped, but with his parents encouragement, he got up and climbed.
Kristine told me boys are driven by testosterone, which effects the development of their left brain. It is why they take longer to learn fine motor skills, how to talk and behave under pressure.
Both sides of my brain were tired. I watched my boy, just 20-months old and already driven by testosterone, climb the ladder.
It worried me. If he fell, he would hurt himself. I pulled the ladder closer to the table.
‘He’s okay,’ Kristine said. ‘He just wants to do what you do.’
I watched my boy. He watched us. He always watches us clean, cook, sit and talk. He wants to help. Kristine gives him cooking utensils and holds him up to see what she is doing. He helps us fold washing, vacuum and mop.
Angus doesn’t only want to copy me, he wants to copy his mother, everything she does. I taught my son about pliers, but Kristine has taught him much more than that.
‘When do you think my left brain will catch up to yours?’ I asked.
Kristine smirked. ‘I think your right brain has overcompensated. Don’t worry about your left brain.’
Angus smiled at us when he got to the top of the ladder…
