I wanted to build a playhouse for the kids at Timber Cove. The kids needed a playhouse at Timber Cove. We had enough scrap wood to build at least two playhouses at Timber Cove. I had even done research on what style we needed and how best to build it. I just needed Martin to build it. And with plenty of other projects higher on his list than said playhouse, I had to wait.. a few years.
And then I read a book. I can’t remember which one (and I clearly don’t care enough to go back to my list), but it told the story of a dad deciding to build a playhouse with his three sons with absolutely no plans or experience. It turned out lopsided and leaned more than the tower of Pisa but the kids had a playhouse and a great bonding experience with their dad. Per the book: done was better than perfect. It was a clear sign for me. I was going to build this thing myself. Yes Martin would do it better (his profession would require it) but done is better than…better?
Unfortunately for Martin I picked the very next weekend we were up at Timber Cove to get started which also happened to be his birthday. And as much as I wanted to do this myself I wasn’t going to turn down help when offered and of course he couldn’t help himself to not get involved once I started drawing out the plans and “measuring” the wood.
That first weekend we were able to lay down the flooring, get the framing done and put the siding and walls up on one side. The kids loved it and deep down I am sure Martin did too. We ran out of time Sunday afternoon but I made a point to tell the kids we would work on it again the next time we were up there.
The next time just happened to be Father’s Day weekend and once again we spent a weekend that was designated to celebrate Martin doing a project I insisted on tackling and something he had no strong urge to start.
With a little more confidence in my building abilities this time around we were able to finish the siding on another wall and put the roof on before running out of supplies. We had anticipated this before we went up that weekend so we made the trip up to Gualala to buy plywood for the remaining two walls and paint to brighten up the interior (colors to be decided by Oskar and Alva). Fun fact: driving 25 miles per hour or more on Highway 1 with plywood strapped to the roof creates a deafening humming noise that would make the strongest will go insane but not prevent Alva from falling asleep.
Sunday morning the playhouse was officially complete, the interior (including a few unfortunate spiders) was painted and Oskar and Alva announced that the Happy Hotdog restaurant was officially open for business. They played for hours: Alva taking orders from the front of the restaurant on her “computer”, yelling them back to Oskar, the chef, working the grill and hustling faster than even the most committed line cook. They even insisted on a photo shoot to commemorate their opening day.
It was during this moment of play on Sunday that made me happy to ruin Martin's two special weekends with my crazy idea and made Martin confirm that he was glad I insisted on getting it built.
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