Two flights up the shaking metal staircase, I felt a stab of regret. What had I gotten us into this time, I thought, as my five-year-old’s hand tightened and her steady stream of commentary went uncharacteristically quiet. Was she thinking what I was thinking? “What kind of idiot imagines sleeping 40 feet above the ground, in a closet-sized tree house, on a near freezing February night, with two small kids, will be fun?”
And if that’s what Roxie was thinking, she had a point.