Slot screws, as we all know, come from the devil. (You don’t have to believe in the devil’s existence to state this, although I tender the invention of slot screws as evidence of his presence.) The only real screw that is in any way useable is a Robertson, blasphemously called a square-head in the U.S.
A Phillips will do, but Robertsons are a staple of our house. We buy them by the bucket.
Katherine recently discovered that screws and screwdrivers go together and that, while she can’t actually manipulate them against each other in the approved fashion, she can have a whale of a time with a bucket of screws, an old piece of wood and a screwdriver without actually inserting a screw into anything.
The other day she asked to play with the screwdriver. The dialogue went something like this:
K: Mommy, can I please have the screwdriver please?
M: Sure Katherine. What screwdriver do you want?
K: Mommy’s screwdriver.
M: What kind of screwdriver does Mommy use?
K: (Silence followed by a pterodactyl.)
M: Mommy uses a Robertson screwdriver. Can you say Robertson?
K: (More pterodactyls)
M: Say Robertson or I’ll tickle you!
M: Say slot screws are from the devil!
K:(Blank stare followed by giggles)
M: Say Robertson AND I’ll tickle you!
Now, randomly throughout the day, Katherine will come up to me and whisper, “Robertson!” in the hopes of being chased and tickled.
Kids are funny things.