Some time ago, my 6 year old, Elias, and I patiently pieced together a castle made of little wooden bricks that I sliced up from an old pallet. My son's joy over having his own unique castle was palpable. On one altercation with another child on the playground, my son pointed to his shirt, which had "King Elias" printed on it (a gift from an eccentric uncle), and stated reverently, "I'm a king!" To which the assumed subject responded, "No you're not! You're just a kid in a shirt!" Undaunted, he climbed to the top of a playground structure some time later and cried out, "Repent!" I'm not sure what kind of king he envisioned himself to be, but I decided that each of my children would eventually get their own castle when they were old enough to place a detailed order, if for no other reason than to prevent any one child from assuming lordship over his other sibilings.
Fast forward several years and I am now currently in the process of finishing the last of 3 castles. Each of these builds embodies the personalities and interests of the offspring for whom they represent. To be clear, they are the results of their detailed requests inspired by their own fancy. And yet, I must concede that they could have been influenced by a ridiculous set of stories I had been telling them for years about falling through metaphysical portholes into medieval lands where each had their own kingdom, castle, dragons, in-house wizard and token bad guy to give them some trouble. Though some of the blame for their wild fancy could land on me, it should also be noted that I would never have concocted such outlandandish and irreverent tales had I not had children. They drove me to it.
But without further ado, here are the 3 castles constructed so far: