The floor is laid and half of one wall is finished in what will be the most awesome tree house ever. I know it will be the most awesome because Brett told me so! But today, my hands are squished, poked and bruised because I don’t hammer—or, in actuality, nail, very often. And yet, the smashed thumb and splinters are worth it when I see that look in Brett’s eyes.
I’d been telling Brett—well, both kids—that I would make them a tree house since we lived in Loretto, TN, nearly 4 years ago. The problem in Loretto was that we didn’t have any good “treehouse” trees in our front yard, and we were planning to cut them all down in the back (we eventually did—they were all pine trees and I don’t really like them). Then, we never actually bought a house when we lived in Piggott, Arkansas so I had no real place to put one.
But we have the coolest tree here because it has three large sections each growing up and large enough for an individual tree for each section. The only way it could be more perfect would be to have a fourth branch and then allow us to put up four walls. But, it is a very cool tree. And it is a huge tree, too. The tree itself towers over the house.
I didn’t tell Brett, but I was jogging through my memory with BJ and I can remember as a kid, we built tree houses 40 and 50 feet up…climbing boards nailed into the tree all the way up. Of course, when I was a kid we always just called them “forts.” Our forts were to protect us from the “enemy”…the older kids in the neighborhood. Once, we built the near perfect fort: wedged in the thick branches of limbs of three trees and about 20 feet off the ground. It had three levels so that the 5-6 members of our gang could all have “stations.”
One day we showed up to play and found a whole host of stuff that wasn’t ours. Not long after, the gang of older kids came and ran us off. We were really mad: we’d built the thing and then they took it over. We showed them, though. That evening, with flashlights in our hands, we snuck out to the woods and chopped all three trees down, destroying their fort.
Showed them, didn’t we?
Did I mention that I told Brett what a “watchtower” was and how cool it would be to have one on the top of his fort?
Silly me. Now he wants the watchtower to be taller than the roof of our home so that he can see over it and into the street. The thing is, see, Brett is 7 years old and it already starts out fairly high off the ground—at least 7 feet from the ground…8 if you go around to the other side.