Dad stopped the car in front of the carpentry shop. He said he wanted to make house for Rea on his own.
"I do not know, dad. Are you sure you can? "
"Of course, your dad is the master of it! Look, I have a plan! "He proudly said and pointed out a scraped sheet of paper on which was drawn a detailed design.
I shrugged. After 10 minutes, he brought a few boards, a nail box and a hammer, and brought it all into the trunk.
He was very nice and full of enthusiasm as we came home and while he was doing all things. He sang a song on foreign language I didn't understand (and I don't think he did too).
He threw the boards on the grass in front of the house, studied the plan a little and finally started work. Rea I was sitting on the wall about two meters away from him.
Dad slammed nails and hit his finger with a hammer. He cocked and then started cursing aloud. I gasped and covered Rea's ears.
,,That's not nice!"
He didn't respond, but he stopped cursing. He continued with making, this time, taking care not to hurt again.
The little house slowly took some form. Still, it did not look the best.
It was unstable, boards would fall out, and the house itself was threatening to collapse. It didn't even look nice. On each plank (which wasn't parallel to each other), a pair of nails were pinned tightly with each other.
Rea and me looked at each other. I could recognize in her eyes that she wanted to say, "Is this supposed to be my home?"
Dad looked at his ,masterpiece' with ruth, and then he grumbled something, jumped into the car and went somewhere. The two of us watched him.
He came back very quickly carrying a box, which says "collapsible dog house''.
Fortunately, he managed to do it right.
