Dad inherited in full measure the Scottish instinct for engineering combined with the Mohawk flair for construction. An admirer of his once remarked that you could "Put Jim on a desert island with three monkeys and a hammer; come back in six months, and he'd have two ships in the water and a variant model on the production line."
He never came across something he couldn't build (or tear down). And what was happily referred to as "Ethnic Engineering" was a particular specialty of my father's -- I have fond memories of a white-faced MIT School of Engineering graduate having to sit down abruptly after coming face-to-face with what Dad had done to an oil-derrick with gaffer-tape, baling wire, and thirty feet of bamboo.
Anyhoo, any child of my father ought to be able to suss out a Made-In-China shelf kit in less than an hour.