Here I am, age 3, helping my Dad build a treehouse. I didn't realize that it was meant for my brother until it was finished and only had a knotted rope for access. He is almost 5 years older than me, so that was just "perfect" for him - a haven away from his little sister! Dad realized that I was not going to give up on the idea of playing up there, so he built a set of steps for me. Years after it was built, when my brother had outgrown the need for the playhouse, it was finally mine. So, I set about remodeling. I painted it with the leftover (pink!) paint from my bedroom, hung curtains, moved in my kitchen wares, and held the cats hostage there as my "babies".