My neighbour, a tall slim man, is cutting wood in a slanted field, its grasses yellowed by the late summer partial drought. His son is playing with a red toy truck nearby.
Kid (to me): “Your treehouse is cool.”
Me: “Oh, do you play in it?”
[Dreamor’s Note: I don’t spend a lot of time in this, my second home, and so things like this could easily be going on behind my back.]
He nods.
Me: “You gotta be careful. I’m not sure if it’s up to code.”
His expression doesn’t change.
Me (teacherly): “Do you know what up to code means?”
Him (slightly indignant): “Uh, yeah — building codes!”
Me: “You seem to know a lot then. Do you know if the electrical outlets in there are at least two feet away from the wall? The ones in the bathroom?”
Him: “No.”
He returns to his toy truck, except now it’s a Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robot.
Tree House