There are many fond memories I carry with me of the random crap I did growing up that i’m just “too old” to do, or really just too big (as the fall would be much harder). Climbing trees, jumping off of swings, riding down staircases on mattresses, you know, all the things that these days would probably break my hip. Or my neck.
One of my fondest memories are the massive and almost ridiculously thought out pillow & blanket forts I used to make.
Every single pillow, blanket, couch and chair in the house were utilized to make an entire maze, or as I liked to call it, a Labyrinth (it was the 80s after all). Corridors, rooms, secret passages, the occasional skylight. I would spend hours tediously draping blankets and stacking pillows and cushions to make it just right, and would spend even more hours playing inside of it.
Never once, though, did I stop to think about how my parents felt about me completely tearing about the house, unfolding every blanket and sheet, pulling the cushions off of the couch and taking over the entire living room… and probably not putting any of it back. Never even crossed my mind if they enjoyed it as much as I did.
I know now, that the answer to the question I never asked is more than likely NO. How do I know? I now have two little boys who do the same exact shit, only a hell of a lot more clumsily, and it drives me up the fucking wall.
It seems as though every time I turn my back, both kids have piled every pillow and every blanket in the middle of the living room floor and then crawled under it, started to mouth breath as loudly as humanly possible, and then proceeded to fight because one put the foot in the others face, or rolled over onto an arm, pit in the other’s mouth, who the hell knows. I turn again and they’ve put pillows under the couch, blankets over their heads, and are repeatedly jump-falling off.
Bounce bounce crash, bounce bounce crash, whine burrow burrow OMFG STOP IT!
Don’t they know the fine art of making a pillow fort? The strategy behind it?
No, because they’d rather attempt to maim each other. They’d also rather completely wreck the house in the process of this maiming game they play.
Perhaps once they get a little older and understand there are schematics and blueprints, floorplans and a certain way to do things, my childhood memory won’t be covered in poop and annoyance. This is assuming they learn to clean up after themselves when they’re done… which is highly unlikely.
I may have to add this to the list of things I loved as a child but LOATHE as an adult. Why Candyland, WHY?!
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