Unskilled Professional

Okay, so as a Father From Faraway, I'm given leeway to not know what all's in the diaper bag, and it'll take me some time to learn where everything is in this house, and how to fold a "onesie." But it's still frustrating to be a trained military strategic leader who knows the seventeen subsystems of the Milstar communications satellite, knows how to eat dandelions and ants to survive in the wild, knows more Top Secret alien shit than you can shake a STIC at, and still, at age 35, if given the manual, a year of guidance, a video, a room full of monkeys to show me how, and a life-threatening ultimatum, I could still not set up a baby gate across a corridor.

I have lost more flesh in my hand, made more noise, and invented more curse words, trying to stretch a simple wooden sliding rail-and-fence combination to fit a standard hallway gap, that my wife now knows that after about the eleven-minute mark of trying, it's best that I be given another responsibility, before the property starts to lose value.