Ft. Fort

Ft. Fort

So the other Friday, as I was driving to work, I stumbled upon an idea.

After Bab-E Brother goes to bed, we can make a fort in our playroom, and Big Brother, Little Brother, Mom-E and I can play games and eat popcorn and read stories.

(We weren’t trying to exclude Bab-E Brother, it’s just that his attention span for that kinda thing is on the order of milliseconds, rather than minutes, and no doubt he’d make it his personal mission to bring down the fort.)

Mom-E liked the idea, and we agree that it’d be best not to tell the boys in advance, unless Mom-E wanted to be asked 10,000 times “Can we build the fort now?”

So after bath time, I sprung the idea, to which the boys took with great excitement and anticipation.

(We were still asked “Can we build the fort now?” no less than 100 times.)

With the “help” of small men, we rearranged furniture, pulled apart couch cushions, and assembled a make-shift roof out of blankets.

The boys took to the fort – which was the size of a breadbox and as hot as a toaster – as if it were made of melted chocolate.

We munched on popcorn and read stories by flashlight, and despite the intention of playing some games, the boys decided they were ready to sleep in their indoor campground.

In contrast to the usual routine of chaos and verbal protests, the boys fell asleep quite easily, packed like a pair of sardines.

“What a great idea!” Mom-E and I patted ourselves on the back.

We even had the foresight to line the floor of the tent with an absorbent pad, just in case the boys’ excitement continued in their sleep.

And what a peaceful night it was.

Until about 2:30 am.

Suddenly one child awoke SCREAMING (still not sure if due to hunger, nightmare, or confusion about current whereabouts).

This awakened the other child, who had an accident that autographed both the pad as well as a small patch of carpet.

That child started screaming at his brother (for screaming).

This, in turn, awakened Bab-E Brother, who turned the screaming duet into a screaming trio.

In an instant, our peaceful scene was erased and turned into three screaming boys, a pair of wet jammies, and a leak on the floor of the tent, all at 2:30 am.

Pardon my French, but at that moment Mom-E and I concurred that “Forts $uck!”

It didn’t take that long to get everyone calmed down, changed, and back to sleep (after spot-treating the carpet).

Amazingly, the next day, the boys both adamantly asked “Can we sleep in the fort again?”

Unamazingly, Mom-E and I both retorted, “No!”

And thus endeth the Fort.

From all of us at Fort Busy-Dad-E, have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E