Three Boys and a Bench

A few months ago, I decided I wanted a bench in between the beds in Cubby and Charlie's room. So I e-mailed my dad, the (not amateur) carpenter extraordinaire, and asked if he could make me one. Because I can do that, because he is awesome.

Yesterday, this arrived.

Ta da! It's like magic. And it didn't get broken into a dozen pieces this time by FedEx. Hooray.

I unpacked it outside initially, so I wouldn't have to haul the box and everything back down the stairs. Cubby and Charlie discovered that Nana had packed those nifty cubbies with a few surprises for them.

Firemen hats and police vehicles, specifically. We've got all our emergency responder needs covered.

Then I hauled it upstairs and put it under the window between the beds, where it fit perfectly. Because that is the beauty of custom-built furniture.

Another beautiful part of custom-built furniture? It can be built sturdy enough to withstand the climbing of two small boys. One of whom appears to be trying to pet the baby on the head. With his foot. Nice, Charlie.

My dad also included a very amusing letter for Cubby and Charlie explaining that this particular bench was built with wood A. scavenged from a torn-down dairy barn, so it smelled like cow poop. Cubby and Charlie loved this, of course, because they are small boys and the idea of a poop bench is hilarious to small boys.

Baca wins again.