So it was lockdown in NZ. Couldn’t go anywhere, couldn’t do anything… but lucky us, we had a sweet-as backyard. In those last few precious moments before lockdown properly kicked in, I went full panic-mode and gathered whatever materials I could afford. Which mostly meant pallets, rough-sawn fence boards, and a box of nails I already owned.

Fueled by piss and vigour (and questionable judgement), I had a project.

Aoife was only two at the time, so naturally I put her to work. This may or may not have resulted in me getting in trouble when my wife came outside to find me teaching Aoife how to use the nail gun. In my defence, she was very focused.

We cracked into it. Cleared a little slot amongst the bananas at the back of the property. Set some posts, laid a floor, framed the thing up. The curved roof came from an old shed we’d dismantled a few months earlier — classic “this will be useful one day” energy finally paying off. Slapped some iron on for walls, made railings and steps, and built a wee wooden kitchen out back, complete with a pile of second-hand-shop pots and pans.

Everything was scaled for the kids. Everything was not scaled for me. I hit my head more times than I care to admit on the low doors and covered porch. But it was all made worth it when Aoife looked at me, dead serious, and said:

“See Dad — this is not for you. Out.”

Worth it.

Since then it’s been mint watching the kids absolutely tear it up, and even better seeing the playhouse actually stand up to the punishment. Built in lockdown, built on vibes, and still going strong.