Joe's least favorite past-time may very well be hanging pictures. Whenever he can sneak a little rebellion into the task, it gives him great satisfaction.
Several months ago when I asked him to hang these four butterfly pictures on the wall in the girls' room, I was in the middle of baths. He balked because our arrangement was one picture hung per evening, no more, no less. This was four pictures in one evening and he felt cheated out of our former agreement. My very logical explanation and pleadings of how it would be more difficult to hang these one at a time over four days prevailed. So, being the kind and indulgent man he is, he hung them, while I gave baths. He did, however, refuse my help, supervision or input. I should have known I was in trouble. Here's what I saw when I returned to the room.
A crooked butterfly. He said it was flying and remarked on how cool it looked. The girls agreed it was neat. I agreed it was crooked. Then I received some lengthy explanation about the term that is being widely used these days: meta. Joe said this was so "meta." Even after his explanation and the girls insistence that it was cool, I still wasn't impressed.
But I was outnumbered.