Doll House

[ArsGeek]

I'm a fairly competent guy. I can build computers on my own, load multiple operating systems and create servers to fit various needs. Got a desktop request? I can fulfill it. I?ve got a bunch of degrees and certificates from various places. I work at an ivy league school. I?ve run archeology labs and field schools, piecing together the smallest bits of evidence to form a hypothesis for form, function and purpose.

Damn me if a giant doll house didn?t kick my arse this weekend.

My daughter and fourteen of her close friends (yes, she?s much more social than I am) enjoyed a wonderful party painting wooden treasure chests and generally exhausting themselves in a play village and then refueling on cake and juice boxes. Most of us parents stood helplessly by saying things like ?Honey! Honey! Don?t climb the plumbing!? Or ?Please help the nice lady out of the snake pit!?.

Among other presents, she received from one set of Grandparents a humongous doll house with the ominous label stating ?Some Assembly Required And If You Don?t Have An Architecture Degree, You Might As Well Return This And Get Her That Dog She Wants.? Fortunately my Wife and I had been informed of the purchase prior to the party and I had assembled several sets of tools for the purpose, borrowing a blowtorch and hacksaw from a neighbor. We had even viewed the fully constructed version of the doll house and were awed by it?s four floors of beauty, working elevator, indoor Olympic sized pool and complete home security system.

After the party and a visit with some friends (one of which whom appeared on television so we had gathered to ooh and ahh) we took our rented truck full of presents back to our tiny little abode and unloaded.

My daughter spent a pleasant seventeen seconds disemboweling presents and screaming in delight at the latest princess doodad, robotic game, computer animated movie and even the occasional antiquated book. Finally, the last package was left to be unwrapped ? the biggest and by far baddest present in the house. My daughter stood and stared up at it for a moment before grabbing a steak knife and shredding the packaging to reveal a box containing the doll house.

She stood for a moment regarding it before declaring ?Neat. Can I have a juice box? I?m thirsty.?

Soon she was deposited on the couch fulfilling her minimum animated animal quota for the day while I dragged several hundred pounds of lumber, mislabeled screws and directions in Mandarin into her room. After popping the box and surrounded by helpful felines I stood for a moment and regarded what can only be described as a box full of chaos. There were bits of wood in all shapes and sizes, I-beams, small, medium and large screws and an assortment of floor, wall and roof bits. Riding on top of this heap was the instruction sheet, which I noted with interest was exactly four inches by six inches in size.

Each piece in the box was helpfully labeled on the instructions with descriptions like ?(1)-flooring A-960(s) x2?. There were seven hundred and fourteen different parts I noted, and one fragile looking allen wrench taped helpfully to the napkin on which the instructions were printed.

Being a true geek, I sorted all of the parts according the instructions (after moving my daughter?s bed, dresser and window treatments into the hallway for more room) and then all of the fourteen different types of screws, bolts and fasteners. I now had several tidy piles on the floor alongside a stack of lumber. The cats were curled up in the bed settling in for a nice show.

I began attaching part 97-sub-B (Ankle Bone) to part 1sAfl-14 (Linoleum (simulated) kitchen floor) with screw #13-b (six included). Several hours passed in this way with my daughter occasionally wandering in and giving me helpful advice like ?No daddy, you shouldn?t use a torque wrench on that you may strip the screw? and alternately trying to shove her dolls into half formed piles of lumber while I tearfully pleaded with her to please stop and fetch daddy a beer. Or a sedative.

After my daughter fell asleep nestled amongst gently purring cats and surround by her twenty or thirty princess dolls and one Beast doll (lucky guy), the dawn was spreading it?s fingers through the sky and somewhere a rooster was crowing. I finally finished the doll house.

It now stands as a testament to ingenuity, badly written directions and cheap lumber. I find myself better for the experience as well. My daughter has a wonderfully new, engaging toy that doesn?t rely on gimmicky electronics on which she can expand her imagination. I am learning to type with only seven fingers.

[Ghic Chic]

I feel your pain. I've assembled many a dollhouse, toy box, doll cradles/cribs etc. Only I'm HORRIBLE with directions/instructions. I tend to toss them aside and go with my gut... Only when something winds up looking as if something is going to prompt a safety commitee to intrude my dwelling due to the obvious hazards... I'll take a glimpse and figure it out. The bliss is when they play with it ASSUMING it came that way!

(sigh) I miss MY doll house. My brother used to take his Big Jim and invade the parameters. I'd wind up with the family in a hostage situation almost weekly and once the daughter was beheaded with a ransom note. Good times... good times (sniff)