Jeremy reveled in having a toddler. He's always been great with kids, and he really does love babies, but something about having a toddler to giggle maniacally at every bodily noise, every silly face, every goofy voice, fulfilled him in a way that no newborn's downy head and sweet smell ever could.
One weekend, when Jeremy had a day off, he decided to build a fort. Now, when Jeremy Smoot sets out to make a fort, it's no ordinary fort. It's not just a "Let's hang a blanket over the table and sit under it". It's a "Let's rearrange the furniture, use every pillow and couch cushion in the house, all the blankets we can find, a couple of fans, maybe the TV and some foam mattress toppers, and then it might be cool enough." He made such a Fort in the corner of our new cutesy living room, which I should add, was not large. He removed all the bedding from our bed and Ashton's, plus any extras we had from the linen closet. He propped it up with the sofa and some boom mic stands, possibly duct tape and clothes pins (my memory is fuzzy), and a whole lot of 'Merican ingenuity. He ate lunch and dinner in The Fort, watched some TV, brought his guitar in there and played it like he was in front of a fire in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
And it wasn't enough to just leave The Fort up on his day off. Oh, no. After all that "hard work", there was no way The Fort could come down after only a few hours! The Fort had to stay! The Fort needed to be slept in, and utilized, and valued for the architectural masterpiece it was.
So there I was. In a not very large, two bedroom cutesy apartment, with a toddler, possibly pregnant or with a newborn (like I said, my memory is fuzzy), no cushions on my couch, and no bedding on my bed. For an entire week. He did manage to get me to sleep in it for about half a night at some point during that week, but that was of short, miserable duration. The Fort could not be removed, or altered unless under his direct supervision, and The Fort was where he and Ashton spent every spare minute and every night. Oh, how I hated that Fort. I hated trying to crawl through it to get to the hallway and the one bathroom, I hated trying to find any type of covering for my linen-less bed, I hated that my husband had kidnapped the fan.
But I loved the toothy grin on my son's face when Daddy came home from work and played cars in The Fort, watched Finding Nemo in The Fort, and generally made The Fort a place that was magical and magnificent.
Tonight, while I'm typing this, I can see in to almost 12 year old Ashton's bedroom, to the multitude of blankets cascading from his top bunk down to the dresser, the floor, the bookshelf. Atleigh got bored and disgruntled tonight, so of course Jeremy's quick fix for that? Build a fort! Again, they confiscated all the couch cushions, most of the blankets and pillows (I did manage to save my bedding this time!) the fan, and one of the TVs. Atleigh gave me a tour of the place and explained all the "layers" to me, each blanket being a different layer. The kids played in it all afternoon, from pretending, to video games, to move watching.
Right now, Jeremy and Atleigh are curled up together in a mound of blankets, a color changing nightlight keeping them company while they sleep. And again, I love the toothy grin. I love the heart behind the creation of a magical, secret place, just to erase some rainy day boredom and a case of left out-ness. I love the man that sees into a 6 year old's heart and finds a way to treasure and value it, even if it means some sore and achy muscles and joints tomorrow (although let's be honest: the 6 year old probably would have been happy with a Popsicle... The Fort is just as much for the dad as for the daughter).
I love these everyday nothing moments. These everything moments. These moments that seem playful and insignificant but turn into "Do you remember?"s and the assurance that yes, your Daddy loved you and valued you and was present for you.
I may not love The Fort. But I love what it stands for. For imagination. For childhood. For magic. For family.
Just so long as it doesn't stay standing for a week.
