I learned something interesting over the past week. If one adult tells another adult that they have spent the entire weekend in a blanket fort the typical response is something along the lines of "That's awesome!"
I would have expected such responses as "Why?" or "That's stupid." or even "How old are you, 12?" But nope, every single adult that I know seems genuinely excited that we spent last weekend in a tiny house made out of a comforter, two sheets and a whole bunch of pillows.
And they should be. It turns out that being a grown-up in a blanket fort is just as much fun as I remember it being when I was a child.
Sure, the type of fort is totally different. For myself, blanket forts were war bunkers where G.I. Joes fought the Transformers until the little green army men swooped in and destroyed them all. For my wife, I'm sure they were hangouts where her and her best friend would talk about which boy from Party of Five was cutest.
As adults, much to my chagrin, there were no little green army men. And Katie was disappointed when she learned I have never even seen one episode of Party of Five. But that's okay. What we did have was our own little world away from the bigger, sometimes more stressful one, where we could enjoy each other's company while eating pizza and ice cream and watching movies: New Jack City because Katie's never seen any old rated R movies (and I saw too many) and Adult World because Emma Roberts and John Cusack are both the bee's knees.
And, unlike when I was a child, I didn't have to wake up with a sore back because I'd somehow fallen asleep on Optimus Prime. Instead I just woke up with a sore back because I'm old and that's how I wake up every day.