I'm pretty sure Jabber was talking about tools, but you just never know. The basement, it seems, is a pretty happenin' place.
Today Jabber said, very slyly, "Daddy has a secret hide-out, you know." Sure enough, he was talking about the basement.
It all started with the workbench. Then the TV. Random strips of carpeting. Some more furniture picked up for free from the sides of the street. Then a whole wall of organizational moment, when David decided to put in shelves. Now two, no three, more workbenches, and a reloading hobby that pretty much keeps him occupied for as much time as he'd like, and then some.
At least he does the laundry while he's down there. The basement is not really a fun place for me, except on those days where it's so goddamn hot out that I feel the need to touch my bare feet onto clammy cement floors just to combat spontaneous combustion. Every so often, I also may be forced to drag my ass down there and pedal my exercise bike for a bit, next to the crumbling chimney and a mystery bucket that was filled with something like rock salt but one day mysteriously (hence the term "mystery bucket") melted or something and is now a five gallon bucket of icky liquid. Why don't we dispose of said bucket? Well, is it hazardous waste? I don't think it's compost.
Anyway, I pretty much limit my trips to the basement for necessities, like when I realize I have to wrap a present and didn't send David down for the gift bags, or like this afternoon I had to go down and figure out why the air conditioner wasn't acting like it was plugged in (because it wasn't).
But to the boys, the basement is the ultimate hide-out, a top-secret clubhouse where Mom is not allowed. In the basement, things happen that Mom doesn't get to know about. (That's why Daddy keeps all his wenches there, I guess.) Like tonight Jabberwock went downstairs with Daddy to give Mama some time to rest her vocal cords from screaming at the two boys who Would. Not. Stop. Fighting. So, while Mama and Monkey were reading peacefully from I-Spy Little Wheels and One Little Duck on the front porch swing, Jabber and Dad were in the basement watching Justice League and standing on chairs (and falling off of the chairs when they got so excited about the episode of the Justice League, but I think that's actually one of those things I'm not supposed to know about).
As you may recall, Jabber managed to finagle himself a rather nice set of tools at a silent auction this past spring, so he was busily fixing things and making things right all over the basement. So the question came up whether, in the event that the Justice League (Superman and other heroes, I guess...I'm fuzzy on the details...and in fact asked, "Oh, who's that glowing guy? only to be met with a disdainful, "The Green Lantern. DUH.") should need Jabberwock's help to battle the ever-threatening "Bad Guys," would his Daddy allow him to use his tools to fight with them.
I'd like to think that if he asked this question of me, that I would discuss some things with him about how fighting isn't always the best solution, maybe discussed some of my ideas about diplomacy, or at least tried to get him to wait for a few years before allowing himself to get drafted by this strange Justice League of people in strange clothing and of questionable radioactive status.
But see, in the basement, the answer was just, "Oh, absolutely."