There was a time in my life when I could build three or four full-scale houses in one Alaska building season. So, it is with a mixed blend of pride and defeat that I admit to having finished one half-scale playhouse for my boys over the past two months.
I'd like to be able to say it was a father's love that compelled me to turn it into this storybook cabin. But what was really behind it is a case of chronic immaturity. In essence, this is the cabin I would have built for myself when I was 8 years old had I been in possession of the cash, tools, and skills to pull it off. This is the design we all carried with us in our heads as we dragged our boards and bent nails out into the woods to build our clubhouses. Lofty intentions quickly devolved as our limited resources and talent became apparent. Two boards nailed to trees with a sheet of rotten plywood suspended across them was as close as most of us ever got.
There is no way I know to execute a project like this without thinking about how you would want it if you were a kid. You have to think like a kid to do it. In other words, you have to be a kid for awhile. It's been a good summer that way. As for my boys... they pretend to like it, but I think what they really want is a couple boards and a sheet of old plywood to drag into the woods.