Deep in the Great Forest, past the Clear Blue Lake, and nestled between two of the Singing Mountains is a place called Mosswood. It’s a quiet little place of tall beech and maple trees, the Babbling Brook that runs through, and warm meadows that like to take naps in the afternoon sun. And if you happened to pass through one summer not too long ago, you might have spotted the wee creatures hard at work in Mosswood Meadow, constructing what some might call a clubhouse-tree-house-fort.
Chapter 16: The Clubhouse-Tree-House-Fort
It was truly an ingenious idea – a brilliant, spectacular, just-what-they-needed idea. All of the Mosswood young creatures agreed that a clubhouse would be absolutely the best thing ever.
And then they all turned to Little Beaver.
“Could you make one for us?” they asked.
Little Beaver blinked.
“Please!”
“We can help!”
“It should have slides!”
“And be a tree house!”
“No, a fort!”
“Hold on!” exclaimed Little Beaver.
But the shouts kept coming until Rosie Rabbit jumped up on a hollow log and drummed it loudly with her hind foot.
“Let her think,” shouted Rosie.
An expectant hush fell over Mosswood Meadow. It wasn’t easy with all eyes on her, but Little Beaver turned over the basic elements in her mind. Foundation, walls, roof. She surveyed the meadow. Could she do it?
Whisper. Giggle. “How ‘bout secret doors?” “Shhhhhhh!”
Little Beaver put her paws over her ears and closed her eyes. With solid building materials, some extra paws, and a meticulous plan…maybe.
In fact, maybe it could be remarkable. A clubhouse that she had built – for all the young ones. It’d only been a month since she’d worked up the courage to join in their fun. How glad would they be if she could do it?
Little Beaver looked up. Two dozen eager faces looked back.
“I think I can,” she said.
“HURRAY!!!” shouted the wee ones, and once more the suggestions came flying.
“Tree house!” Freddy yelled (again).
“Fort!” cried Squeakers, “With secret doors!”
“Fort! Fort! Make it a fort!” sang Friskers and Zippikins Otter together.
“How ‘bout some flowers?” asked Millie Hedgehog.
“It needs to be big enough for Bear Cub!” squeaked Maisy Mouse from atop the head of her large friend.
Bear Cub smiled.
‘Wait, wait, wait, WAIT,” cried Little Beaver.
Rosie thumped the log. The commotion muffled.
“The most important part of building is the blueprint,” said Little Beaver.
Blink, blink, from her audience.
“A blueprint is a very careful plan. I will make the plans, and then you can help me build.”
“HURRAY!” came the joyful chorus.
“I’ll help with the plans!” cried Squeakers.
“Me too! Me too!” shouted Freddy.
“Can I help?” asked Millie, “I love to decorate.”
“Oh,” said Little Beaver.
“Then it’s decided!” announced Rosie, “You four will be the planning committee. Let us know when you’re ready and the building will begin!”
“To the Nectar Sip!” said Squeakers.
“What?” said Little Beaver.
“Juice helps me think,” he replied.
“Oooooo, good idea,” said Freddy, “Let’s stop by the Nut Shop on the way. Ma’s making acorn toasties. Very good for thinking.”
“Mmmmm,” said Millie, smacking her lips.
Refreshments had not been in the plan. Assistants, for that matter, had not been in the plan, but they were trotting towards the Clearing anyway. Little Beaver gulped and shuffled after them.
After the stop for snacks and a side trip for Little Beaver to fetch drawing supplies, the four settled at a table at Lady Hummingbird’s tea house.
Little Beaver took a deep breath and spread out the blank blueprint. It was so lovely and fresh. Squeakers, Freddy and Millie leaned over it with her.
“So,” started Freddy.
Little Beaver held up a paw, “Wait.”
Her pencil found its way to the corner of her mouth, and she gnawed on it as she multiplied branch lengths her head. Squeakers’ wisp of a tail quivered. Freddy’s whiskers twitched. Millie took a nibble of toastie.
“The first thing we need…” Little Beaver began.
“Is a moat!” cried Squeakers, bouncing up in his seat.
“And swings!” said Freddy.
“Maybe daisies,” smiled Millie.
“What?” said Little Beaver.
“With a drawbridge!” added Squeakers. He was nearly on top of the table.
Little Beaver grimaced. “Why would we need a moat?”
“The castle in the story that Oliver read at the library had one,” answered the chipmunk, “We definitely need one.”
His eyes cast about and landed on Little Beaver’s extra pencil.
“No, no, no,” she said, shaking her head and snatching the pencil up, “Moats are hazardous to foundations.”
“Awww,” said Squeakers. His shoulders sagged from their perch below his ears.
“Well then what about the swings?” asked Freddy, “And a pool?”
“With a slide!” shouted Squeakers, perking back up.
“Maybe some umbrellas,” added Millie.
“Pool?” Little Beaver stared at them.
“Definitely a pool,” continued the chipmunk, “And secret doors. You can’t forget the secret doors. Where will those go?”
“I could make wreaths for the doors,” smiled Millie.
Little Beaver pinched the bridge of her nose. She’d never been so happy to see Lady Hummingbird as their hostess flitted up with drinks.
“Juice!” cried Squeakers.
Little Beaver lunged to roll up her paper before it could get splashed. Then an idea came to her.
“How about I go home and work on the boring parts,” she said, “and you three can make a list of special extra stuff. We can come back here tomorrow, and I’ll add them to the blueprint.”
The others thought for a moment and then nodded. Little Beaver proposed 10 o’clock. That worked well for Squeakers and Freddy as they were more get-dragged-out-of-bed-by-their-sisters than up-at-the-crack-of-dawn creatures. Millie said she didn’t mind either way. They shook paws on it, and Little Beaver waved good-bye, eager for the solitude of her room.
For the rest of the day, Little Beaver toiled over her plans. She analyzed and considered. She measured and drew. She erased and drew and erased again. Finally, just as her mother came to say it was bedtime, the blueprint was done.
And it was a good one. Solid and sturdy. Practical. She’d made a timeline too. If everyone followed the plan, they could have a finished clubhouse by the end of the week.
Ahhhhhhhh. A warm glow of satisfaction spread through her fur.
But then Little Beaver’s brow furrowed. She had promised the others a list of extras. That might be a problem.
Hmmmmmmmm.
Another idea came to her.
The next morning, Little Beaver rose with the sun and stopped by the Otters’ den home after breakfast. All five were eager to help start building.
Once they reached Mosswood Meadow, Little Beaver spread out her just-right blueprint. Happily, her construction crew set to their tasks with gusto. Little Beaver pointed and waved. Dirt flew, and logs thumped.
Best clubhouse ever, Little Beaver smiled to herself.
Ten o'clock came, and a solid foundation was in. A small pang of guilt twinged in Little Beaver’s heart as she thought about the three friends who would now be appearing at the Nectar Sip.
Oh, well, she thought to herself, This will be a nice surprise.
Then 10:30 came along.
“Hey!” cried a voice across the meadow.
Little Beaver looked up from measuring.
Squeakers, Freddy, and Millie were hopping across the grass.
“What’s going on?” cried Squeakers.
“You started without us!” said Freddy.
“We were waiting,” mumbled Mille, “I don't understand.”
“Surprise,” said Little Beaver, attempting a smile.
Freddy and Squeakers frowned. Millie looked confused.
“What about our list?” demanded the squirrel.
“We’ll get to it, I promise,” answered Little Beaver, “We just need to get the framework in first.”
Her three friends eyed her looking unconvinced.
“Why don’t you help the otters get the first wall up?” Little Beaver suggested.
“Fine.”
Little Beaver’s teeth clicked at their lack of enthusiasm, but maybe it was for the better. Now was the time to stay on task.
Ten minutes later, though…
“How ‘bout a slide that goes out this window?” called Squeakers.
“Oooooo! We can connect it to the tree house part! With the swings!” added Freddy, “There is going to be a tree house part, right, Little Beaver?”
“I could make curtains for the windows,” said Millie.
Little Beaver pinched her nose.
“No, no, no,” she said, “Too complicated. Too fancy. Just keep working on the wall, please.”
‘What?” Freddy threw down the branch he’d been carrying.
The otters paused. Little Beaver’s teeth clicked harder.
“Ridiculous!” said Squeakers, “What kind of fort doesn’t have a slide?”
“What kind of tree house doesn’t have swings?” said Freddy.
“It’s not a fort or a tree house,” groaned Little Beaver, “We don’t have time for all that. Just, just follow the plan!”
“This is goosegrass,” stormed Freddy, and with a swift kick at the branch he’d dropped he stomped away toward the Clearing.
“I’m with him,” snapped Squeakers.
“What’s this about no time for the fun stuff?” asked Zippikins.
She and the other otters crowded around Little Beaver, looking at the blueprint and shaking their heads.
Little Beaver put her face in her paws. Her teeth ground like millstones. None of this was going to plan. Why couldn’t they just follow the plan?
“You’re taking all the fun out of this.”
It was Millie’s voice – barely a whisper and sad.
Little Beaver looked up. Millie’s eyes were sad too.
“I think I’ll go home now,” said the hedgehog.
Millie gave a half-hearted wave and shuffled away. Little Beaver drooped watching her go.
All the fun out? But the timeline, the plan…Oh never mind!
“Wait!” Little Beaver cried.
She barreled after her friend. Millie stopped and looked back.
“I didn’t mean to take all the fun out of it,” Little Beaver panted as she caught up, “I just wanted to get it right. For everyone.”
The footfalls of the otters sounded behind her, but paused a few steps away.
“Now nobody’s happy,” Little Beaver sighed.
“Can the plan include some fun?” asked Millie, “Like curtains?”
The otters stepped closer.
“We’d like a slide too,” said Zippikins.
“Yes, there can be curtains,” said Little Beaver, “And a slide. I think. But I’ve never built something like that before. If we add extra stuff the clubhouse will take forever.”
“That’s ok,” said Oliver, “Building is fun!”
“Oh yes,” said Skipperdoodle, “When do we get to add the secret doors?”
Little Beaver took a breath and looked back at the clubhouse frame. The soon to be clubhouse-tree-house-fort frame. This was going to be interesting, but first…
“Hold on,” she answered, “We may need to pause building for a bit. Can you wait, Millie, while I get something real quick?”
Millie nodded. The otters didn’t mind taking a break for snacks.
A short while later, Little Beaver and Millie spotted Squeakers and Freddy at the Nectar Sip. Little Beaver winced as she overheard her name in huffy voices.
“Excuse me,” she said, stepping up to the tea house platform.
Squeakers and Freddy turned round to look.
“What do you want?” asked Freddy, frowning.
“I came to say…sorry.”
“Really?” said Squeakers.
Little Beaver nodded.
“We’re not building your boring hutch,” said Freddy.
“I know,” said Little Beaver, “This time I really do want to hear your ideas. And I brought these.”
Little Beaver held up the blueprint. And three extra pencils.
“You mean we get to add slides?” asked Squeakers. His wisp of a tail quivered.
Little Beaver nodded.
“It’s going to be fun,” smiled Millie beside her.
“Clubhouse-tree-house-fort!!!!!!” shouted Squeakers and Freddy together.
And though it took four more weeks than originally planned and there weren’t quite so many secret doors as Squeakers suggested, that’s exactly what it turned out to be.
Epilogue Thoughts: On Balance (and Fun)
“You’re doing it wrong!”
Now that my youngest is old enough to play, these words ring through my home a lot. And it’s easy to want to tell my oldest to relax, babies have their own ideas of how to build (or demolish as the case may be).
But then I remember being the firstborn myself. The expert plans I made. The glorious visions I had. And how at age 8, after seeing my grandmother’s backyard covered in snow for the first time I mandated no one was to touch the miracle. Then my little brother RUINED it with his helterskelter footprints that I had not approved. Disaster.
The thing is, if I’m honest, I may be grown up, but the Little CEO inside me is still bossing away. Fortunately for my kids, she’s gotten better at following their lead at play. However, as I discovered last month, she’s not so easy on my own inner 5-year-old – the one who wants to create just to create. Because it’s fun. The one who, when told by Little CEO to buckle down and get serious if she ever wants to be traditionally published, looks sadly back and says, “You’re taking all the fun out of this.”
Oops.
Not that dreams aren’t important and goals aren’t good. But I need to find balance between my driven task-oriented self and the creative parts of me that are the source of the very thing I want to share. Not just for my own sake, but my kids’ as well. As a therapist, I’ve seen countless children facing the challenge of the thing they love (art, music, sports, etc.) become more and more competitive and less and less joyful. How do we help them find the balance? I think the first step is by finding our own.
So in my little corner, I’m trying to mediate gently between my inner creative and my inner striver. For now at least, we’ve found a workable truce. May they find balance in the lives of you and yours as well.
*Thanks to Meg Oolders for the lovely silhouette banner at the beginning of this chapter.*