i'm in for round three!

Well it's true - and I was so excited, I almost pee'd my pants!*

And when I explained it to the whole family at supper, they were excited for me and we all discussed what my contribution would be. Of course we all teased The Secret Weapon, about what my contribution might be, because he is always roped into helping and making and creating for my little house. We tease him all the time about what he can and cannot possibly do, and then somehow he figures out how to possibly do it - like the time he made a tiny ceiling fan light (not from a kit) that actually turns when you flick the switch.

Once, he spent days creating the fireplace and mantle for the little living room because we didn't like any of the many fireplaces that we saw at the doll show. He decided the flames didn't look "realistic" enough with their lights blinking in a non-random fashion and in only one yellowish colour - so he used LED lights - and wrote a tiny electronic program - and made a random flickering fire that is red near the bottom and yellowish near the top and very randomy and flickery just like a real fireplace. Then, he installed a doorbell that rings. He likes to get a little carried away sometimes. These days, I tease him that I still don't have running water in that little house and the mini bears who live there sure do get sticky and messy eating all that cake and probably need a good hot bath.

That brings me to the subject of men and real estate. My father loves to putter and fix the little house just like a regular house. He landscaped the front lawn with the right scale of flocking, if you can imagine, which nearly drove my mother (the Fan) insane because he doesn't really help her with much of the landscaping in their big house! He merrily hung up little garden hoses and put up a dog run (and even carved a dog and flocked it, but that is a whole other story). But my husband, well he is too funny when it comes to that little dollhouse of mine. Let me tell you a funny story.

When we first got together, he (being a cigar-smoking, golfing, business-dealing, baseball-playing kinda man's man) actually thought the little house was pretty sweet and was quite fascinated with it. He even agreed to come with me to my favorite miniature store when we were in Toronto to meet his family. Well! His eyes nearly popped when we set into that store the first time, it was so amazing to him. And then he laid eyes upon a house, about the size of mine, all finished and furnished almost like mine. Just like any man eyeing real estate, he announced in a very loud voice, "that house is just like yours but you have an extra bedroom upstairs and even though you need to do some work on the walls and repaint the exterior, yours is maybe nicer because of all the work you and your Dad have put into it!" I started laughing because he sounded like an episode of "Sell This House" and then - he spied the price tag of that store model and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

Now. This floor model was gorgeous. Amazing. Obviously a thing of true miniature beauty that had been constructed by the store owner for display only. And it was probably never expected that someone would walk in and pay the price on the tag for the house, the stand, and its contents, but maybe that could happen in Toronto so I suppose the store owner had to be prepared. At any rate, we'd never considered its worth over the years, and as my Dad and I played (ahem, worked) on my house, we just kept adding to it and it was a real hobby for such a long time we never even thought about its value. It gave us so much pleasure to do something together and add to it that we never considered it.

To continue: my then-fiance decided that we needed an insurance policy on the little house. Honestly. And we've never moved it from my mother's house to our home because he is convinced we need to hire a professional moving crew and maybe we shouldn't even move it at all! The thought of that horrifies me. But he also thinks that we should leave it where Daddy is for now, so we can make the necessary upgrades. My husband truly said to me about a year ago that I should consider "upgrading" the upstairs carpeting before I finish the walls. Not a word of a lie. He said it with a straight face.

And here is the funniest part: every time he talks about it, he talks about the "estimated value" of the little house - just like in real estate terms. And every time it comes up in conversation, he announces that it is worth blah blah, and it is always more than the last time he assessed the property value! I am not telling this story to brag about how much my dollhouse is worth, not at all. My mother and I have spent hours laughing about "men and real estate" and how my sweet giant husband with his gigantic hands and fingers that were too big to find a wedding ring for contemplates about the little house and its contents regularly. And worries about "the investment." And fusses about it's "curb appeal" (again, a whole other long story).

To summarize, there is just something funny about men and "real estate." Needless to say, Club Little House has this entire family in a tizzy for the moment and another pow-wow is planned this weekend to discuss and strategize...

* When I say I almost pee'd my pants, I meant it both literally and figuratively. My brother Rob (also known as Uncle Bug) gets me to laughing very hard sometimes (most of the time) and by the time I have tears squirting out of my eyes and I am holding my sides I let out a little shriek "I think I pee'd my pants!" and that of course gets him to laughing and saying how wierd I am and then we really get going about whatever. That's all I mean. There was really no pee. Well, maybe a little tiny bit.