I bought my kids a teepee. Or rather, I should say, I bought myself a teepee. I saw this on someone’s review of The Little Bean Shop, and I literally bought it on the spot. I had to wait a few weeks for it to arrive from France. (FRANCE!?!) I was so excited, every time I got a box delivery email from my building, I would run down stairs only to find it was some junk my husband ordered on Amazon (daily). One day I told Cookie it was here, only to discover it wasnt. When I came back she held her hands up in little C shapes and said, Mom, do you know what this is? I said what. She said: My broken heart. (WHAT???? Who are you?!?)
What percentage of my parenting is based in fulfilling my own childhood fantasies? That’s probably not a healthy thing to admit, and could probably lead to a lot of stress later on: I SAID, YOU ARE GOING TO MEDICAL SCHOOL! YOU WILL BE A BALLERINA! YOU WILL GO TO HARVARD! But in the form of playroom teepee fantasy land, I think I’m safe. Wanna hear something cute? When I told Cookie that we should move “the kitchen” downstairs to make room for the teepee. She said, oh yay mommy! But how are we going to eat? Um, Cookie, I’m talking about the play kitchen in your playroom, not the actual kitchen, kitchen? That’s probably not something I should admit with Kindergarten admissions looming. Its cut throat.
Is it wrong that now I want to make my own block print canvas teepee covers? And interchange them? That I want to make a giant one and put my whole bed inside? That I really want to make one for summer and leave it outside? Not weird, right. Apparently this is a pretty easy thing to DIY, if you dare.
Little Bean Shop Teepee HERE.