Thursday, November 13, 2008

The Naming.

Part Three

After the rain stopped I went outside to check on my box playhouse. All that was left was a sodden mess of cardboard, duct tape and sticks. Oh well! I was resigned to the fact that a playhouse was not in my future. Off I went to do the things that children do when it is not raining.

My father at this time decided to take pity on me and went into action. He got on the phone and ordered some lumber. He devised his own plan. He did not consult me for blueprints. My father was not a handy guy with tools. Secretly, I think that is why my persuasion and that of my mother's went ignored for so long. Building things usually was a recipe for frustration and disaster. Whenever he decided to take a shot at being a handyman, my brothers and myself and I am sure my mom knew that it was best to disappear. I can just imagine the helpless expression on his face as he searched through the house hoping to find anyone of us to become his carpenter's helper. I don't know if he found anybody, all I know was that it was not me.

He choose a new plot of real estate for my house. It was on the other side of the garage. A few years before, he had poured a concrete patio up against the garage and built a roof over it. He decided to sacrifice a portion of it for me. It was his easiest option. All he had to do was build three walls, a window and a door. The floor and the roof were already there. He went to work. He managed to build it without amputating any of his limbs or smashing his fingers to bits. He got so involved with the project that he wired it with a light, built jail beds, a table, shelves and even put a lock on the door. My mom staged the place. She brought out a floor mat ,a hotplate , dishes, a pot for cooking and a vase for flowers. I began to wonder if they wanted me to move out there permanently. My dad painted a sign and hung it over the door. It said Chris's Coop.

I felt disappointment but I did not let it show. It in no way resembled the pretty little house of my friend but my parents had worked very hard and I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt that my dad had outdone himself. That night I was allowed to invite my friend Linda over to stay for the night. We cooked our very own supper on my hotplate and dined with the flowers on the table. We brought our sleeping bags and rolled them out on the jail beds. We felt safe and secure with the door locked plus the fact that my parents kept their bedroom window opened.

We very rarely played in my friends playhouse again. Why have pretend lunches and teas when you can have the real thing. Chris's Coop became a hang out for all the neighborhood girls. NO BOYS ALLOWED! I could not think of any name for my blog that would or could be better. It brings back sunny summer memories of laughter and friendship.

10 comments:

Becky said...

K. You BETTER NOT actually be up right now.

Christine said...

No...was sleeping. I put the post on automatic. Talk to you later tonight.

Sue said...

What an amazing and sweet story. Your blog is very appropriately named. It is like coming into your little space and having a visit. I usually have a cup of something when I here.
Have a great trip and talk to you soon.

The Invisible Mo said...

Very cute story and what a great little place. We just had sheets hung from the fence, but we loved them just the same. Sometimes on the army bases, where we grew up, we were lucky enough to get a "wardrobe box" from whatever new people might be moving in. They made excellent "houses".

Jientje said...

Ohh I enjoyed that story Christine!!!
I never had a similar hangout as a child, it must have been great!

Eve said...

Never had a playhouse. We used to play in the shed sometimes, but if we got caught we always got yelled at. We had a pole fence that we could climb and walk the top pole - that's where we hung out. We also had a swing set, a tether ball, and a basketball hoop. Best yard on the block.

Momisodes said...

Oh that is the sweetest story Christine. I can absolutely imagine what it must have been like :) I loved following this, and what a perfect name for your blog!

Karen said...

I never had a play house, but we livd in a rental house that had a "sheep house" in the back yard. The peopl who owned the house used to raise sheep, and that house was where they put sheep that were ready to give birth. Since we had no animals, it was the place where my brothers and I played. And since I was the only girl, we called it a fort instead of a play house. We did have lots of fun there, though.

Bientje said...

Now this is a lovely story!
And the naming of your blog is fantastic! I am glad I didn't miss this story!

Fluffy said...

I can't think of anyone in my neighborhood that had a playhouse. My cousin and brother built a minature golf course in his back yard. That was a lot of fun.