"Helping" my husband

I thought I would help my "where are we going to put this" husband and pick up the garage.  Scott HATES a messy garage and I've made the mistake of not only ordering a play kitchen for our daughter's birthday (which came in a HUGE box...that needs to be stored until the big day!) but also mentioning that I would love to look for a double jogging stroller since Rachel now likes walks.  

Side note here...we have at least 5 strollers, so I understand his lack of enthusiasm, but I promised that I would get rid of at least two of them if I could find a good deal on one.  So when I walked into the garage yesterday and noticed four of the five strollers all over the place (ha!), I thought I would help him out by hanging up my single jogger on a hook.  Little did I know that when I raised the garage door, it would catch the stroller, rip a hole in the wall from the hook, and catch two wheels in the process.  Ugh...I yanked and pulled on the stupid thing, with Elizabeth behind me asking to "Walk...walk!"  I left it.  Hopeless, I called my husband and told him that I had probably broken the stroller and garage door.  He just sighed and told me that he would fix it and asked if he could please get back to work.  (What?  That doesn't count as an emergency?!)  Once he got home, he fixed it in two seconds and came back in the house singing the Handy Manny theme song ("you break it, we fix it"). He also asked me not to "help" him in the garage anymore.  Success!!  And now I have it on the record!  ha!