Tree Fortress
The other day Alpha Male came FLYING into my studio all amped up and animated (gets it from his mother) and talking non-stop at 90 miles per hour with gusts up to 120.
“Dude—breathe. What are you talking about?”
“Me and [names of other hoodlums he hangs out with who, every single one of them, are indeed hoodlums...but the good kind] want to SPRAY! PAINT! THE! TREEHOUSE! So can we spra—”
“No.”
And there began a little back-and-forth I like to call Yeah Dream On.
Long story short, he and his buddies are at that stage in their male developmental psychological continuum wherein everything is an opportunity to destroy anything that moves. Including each other. And what was the coolest picture-perfect backyard tree fort was now, in their minds, the picture-perfect locale for their intended war games. With AirSoft® guns.
Oh great.
Let me admit, straight away, that I was not into this. I mean, at all.
And let me confess, right along with that, that my reason was so lame it’s embarrassing: I liked the way the tree fort looked in the backyard. I mean, it’s a really cool looking tree fort (trap door in floor to hammock, trap door in roof to roof, porthole, canon, solar-powered lights for night time mischief, bleah bleah bleah), and I didn’t like the idea of glancing out the window of our home and suffering an eyesore riddled with graffiti or God-knows-what they’d dream up.
And he left dejected.
And I watched he and his hoodlum gang just sort of stand out in the yard watching the adventure they’d conjured sort of fade away in their now subdued discussion.
Fail. I took me about five seconds to go back in time to the summers my brothers and I, and all our buddies, spent hours upon hours upon hours back in the fields and woods behind our home building forts, hideouts and all manner of secret lairs. And decades later, here I was insisting a tree fort in the back yard maintain a look fit for some article in Better Homes & Gardens.
Yeah no.
“August, c’mere.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s a tree fort. Your tree fort. And either it’s really yours or it’s really not.”
That Look.
“So have at it.”
Those Eyes (he’s been killing me with those eyes since the day he was born) (don’t tell him).
“Really??”
“Really. I don’t care what you do to it—but just one request: we have to look at it everyday lol so just don’t spray paint the part facing the house, okay?”
The whooping and hollering and hammering and sawing and drilling and yelling and laughing you heard yesterday? That was Alpha Male and the Hoodlums living the dream…
And if you’re working on your tree fort, you have to work with your shirt off. Even if it’s January. Even if it’s only 40˚. It’s in The Rules.
See that hole in the window? Wanna know what that’s for? To see Mom carrying out tasty little sandwiches and lemonade to the boys playing checkers in the tree fort?
You wish. If you ever happen to be walking out in the backyard and see it open ever-so-slightly to reveal the barrel of an AirSoft® gun, I highly recommend dumping the tray of tasty sandwiches and lemonade and using it as a shield.
It took them about on hour to construct the walls up on the roof and (I promise I’m not making this up) raise the flag. Gotta love boys.
This is Konnor. He’s one of Alpha Male’s Main Dudes. See that look? I’ve seen that look many times. Many. Times. And you do not want to be on receiving end of that determination.
See that arsenal behind him? That’s why (the kid’s got great aim).
“Dad is their a safety switch for this thing?”
“Um, no August. It’s a jig saw. It doesn’t shoot jig saw blades.”
“Oh.”
The trap door to the roof being inspected by one of the Hoodlums. Deemed a success by all the boys.
By the end of the afternoon there were more holes in more walls for more shooting. There was razor wire chicken wire surrounding the underside of the fortress (to keep out…this is just a hunch…girls), there was an extension cord all the way across the yard to the interior supplying electricity for Still Not Sure What, the canon remained a permanent fixture, the flag stood tall in the dying light of a hard day’s work, the war games were just about to start, and the boys, every one of them, were gods.
So what was the one thing missing?
Mom being not-so-sure this is a good idea at all.
SUCCESS.
Love it. Every part of it. He got you since the day he was born…And so grown up he’s indeed. Oh, I don’t know what to do if I’d have a kid…I don’t know if I could stand have my heart broken every day watching him growing up…But it’s a great adventure after all. And it’s great to watch it and feel it so closely thanks to you (and your wife, of course. She’s the one and only Master and Commander.)
By the way… I think he got the shirt-off part from you… So, let’s pray to God he’ll be more like his mother in everything else…(OK, let’s hope he’s got three or four things from you anyway.)
Thanks Frappé. Appreciate your perspective. Especially the part about who’s really in charge around here (because it’s clearly not me).
You’re welcome.
Lovin’ this post. I can remember this sort of mischief. How old are Alpha Male & Beta Male?
Thirteen and ten, respectively. Which is saying a lot for “thirteen.” Respect, that is. *shoot me
TC in exactly 2.5 years Alpha and the hoodlums will come up with these genius ideas for the beloved SUV! The will continue to think you are really dumb and have always ben old. And they will then drag into, and blame, Beta for it all. Ask Mike about him sliding into a tree some time. BTW, shirtless and shorts in January, I gotta find a more hospitable place to live!
That reminds me. I need more gin.