Benjamin's Clubhouse

On a recent stroll through Ikea, I made a wondrous discovery: Ikea sells igloos! This place is amazing. Ikea sells not only cheap potties, furniture, and dishware, but also igloos! IGLOOS! Will wonders never cease? Best of all, the igloos sell for only-- Nevermind. I'm not going to disclose how much they go for, because some of the lucky little boys on our Christmas list may be getting one this year.

Since an igloo would be incongruous within our SoCal home, Benjamin -with my help, natch - fashioned a sign for its doorway, transforming the igloo into a clubhouse. And in deference to his mother's anal-retentive wishes, he made a second sign for the inside of the entryway. Anyone who's been to our home will understand.

The beauty of Benjamin's clubhouse is that a substatial amount of our baby detritus is now contained. Now when you approach his playroom, instead of a messy landscape of blocks, dolls, books, and toys, you're greeted by the far neater sight of a single igloo-- I mean, clubhouse.

The one thing that will stay out of the clubhouse is Benjamin's potty. As the saying goes, one shouldn't um... poop where one eats.

Of course, a clubhouse wouldn't be complete without a trusty guard dog. If Oliver looks less than enthralled with his new job, it's because even though he's welcome to stand sentry outside of the clubhouse, there's an understand that's he's not allowed to go in.

Before you start feeling sorry for the pug, know this: along with the igloo, I also purchased a new baby gate to use during Oliver's mealtimes. So even though Benjamin may have his own clubhouse, the pug now has his own dining room - as well as the smug satisfaction of knowing that his nemesis is barred from entering.