A couple of years ago The Papa and I had a conversation that went something like this:
Mama: Let's build a fort for Benji for Christmas. We can use some of the wood we have lying around here. It'll be cheaper than buying a play structure and we can build it ourselves. It will be rustic and good for his imagination.
The Papa: OK.
As we got into the project, the conversation then went something like this.
Mama: Wait. What are you doing? That's not what it said in the plans!
The Papa: I'm following your plan.
Mama: No you're not! That is supposed to be 54" total. See? LOOK at it!
The Papa: It wasn't clear.
Mama: How could it not be clear?! That's what the line shows! That's the number RIGHT THERE.
The Papa: These aren't good sketches.
Mama: They are perfectly clear! You just have a mental block when it comes to me trying to communicate with you about something you don't want to do.
The Papa: I think we should hire the Northrops to finish this for us.
Somehow The Papa and I managed to build the foundation together. And the Northrops did come complete the job. And it cost at least twice what I had hoped because we got real weatherproof siding and because I had no idea lumber was so expensive. Truly. Plus the whole paying someone else to do the labor thing.
And, P.S., they understood my blueprint just fine.
But then the little building sat. It had no curtains and no furniture in it. I thought that would make it the birthplace of imaginative ventures, but all it became was a ghost town. I thought it would transform into a castle, or a pioneer fort, or a spy hideout. It did no such thing.
So this past spring I decided to lure Sadie into it. I sewed curtains from fabric that was languishing in a pile in the loft. We rearranged the kids' playroom and brought the table and chairs out to the little building. The kids made art and taped it to the walls. We hung hooks for a handheld broom and dustpan for tidying up, and a few for hanging superheros capes, lanterns, and fake crystals. Because...fancy.
Now the house is in heavy rotation, and they all refer to it as "The Clubhouse." We are in the process of painting a sign to hang on the front, and I am pretty sure it needs a hanging pot of succulents at the entrance as well. (Then again, someone already tore down the windchime, so maybe I am a little too ambitious.)
This brings us to The Mud Kitchen.
No matter what I do, they ALWAYS come back to digging in the planters.
So I got smart and gave them a patch all their own.
The mud still ends up all over, but now they are not digging up newly planted vegetables.
Bee-la-la is in the busybody stage. She swiped these sunglasses from behind Benji's back.
And she decided to actually eat the mud pie. She gave it a thumbs-down.
And there ya have it! Backyard times at our place - good dirty fun.
