I usually try to post about once each week day and then, if possible, once during the weekend. It’s that weekend one that varies the most. On some occasions, I have a bit of leisure time and I’ll think of something to help you waste your time. But then there are times like this past weekend. I felt like I was constantly going and as soon as night fell, so did I. There’s so much that needs to be done around the house and the yard that I’ll probably never be comfortable with the state of our property.

This past weekend, I had numerous projects going on. Some were more evident than others. Let’s take, for instance, cleaning out the gutters. The job was long, hot, tedious, and dirty. When I got done and looked at the house, did it look any different? Negative. Would any visitors be able to tell that I’d done it? No. Is there really much evidence that I’d spent so much time on this? Not that I can see. But, this was a task that had to be done…so I did it.

There were, however, a couple of very evident tasks and a couple that were very rewarding. This post is about one of the latter. (As opposed to one of “the ladder” which is what was used to clean out the gutters.)

After supper on Friday evening, Butterfly whispered to me “Daddy, I have a secret.” This is her new way of asking for something that she either knows she probably won’t get or doesn’t want her mother to hear because that would greatly decrease her chances of getting it. So, I readied myself to say “no” and leaned in close. “Why don’t we go build pillow houses!”

Upstairs we went to venture into imaginary realms which are supported by cloth and down. In this case, I was instructed to be Pocahontas. It was a bit of a stretch, but I managed to sound a bit more feminine than usual. I asked Butterfly who she was going to be and she said “I’m just going to be me, silly Daddy.” Good enough.

I summoned all of my engineering insight and judgment to construct another pillow house. This one came in the shape of a long tunnel. Butterfly immediately dubbed this creation a “hidey hole” (definition: a hole in which one hides.) I knew immediately that my creation was appreciated when Butterfly screamed at the top of her lungs for her mother to come and watch her play in it. In and out she went while “Pocahontas” called to her from various locations. Ladybug was curious enough to peek into the hole, but not brave enough to venture inside. She liked her chances much better where Pocahontas could keep an eye on her.

But, all good things must come to an end. Butterfly said “Daddy, you crawl in the hidey hole!” So I slowly ventured my way into the dark corridor. The only way for me to fit was to simply lay onto the floor. Immediately after my arrival, I felt the weight of a 3 yr. old on my chest and heard that deep, infectious belly laugh.

Once again, my hard work was erased in a matter of seconds. Most likely, Butterfly will never remember stories of clean gutters or trimmed hedges, but she’ll definitely remember the pillow houses. I know this because every evening since, she’s pulled close to my ear and whispered “Daddy, let’s go build pillow houses.” It’s good to have someone recognize a quality project when they see it.