Yellow is Not Mellow

Does this look like a treehouse to you?
Ho-hum yellow treefort with a non-Ho-hum yellow slide. Oh god just kill me now. Wait, I'll explain.

That's because it's not. But I'm not sure what to call it (..fort?) and it is both made of and in close proximity to trees, so our family has formed a tacit agreement to refer to it as such. I think it would be confusing to outsiders, especially those who are standing in our backyard admiring the landscaping and can clearly see that it is not a treehouse but have to agree with us because we are the hosts and face it, our backyard is big enough to bury a lot of bodies, except that most of the people who have been invited to our home so far are not native English speakers and I think "treehouse" makes as much sense to them as it does to my parents. Which is about as much sense as that run-on sentence just made.

Anyway my point is that my parents have decided to repaint the treehouse/fort (treefort?) because they are about ten years too late in creating lasting childhood memories want our new backyard to look nice. Then they told my sister she could choose the color, and Iz chose purple because that color is awesome and agreeable with both of us. And then today my dad wanted to go buy paint and on our way I was struck by a sudden realization:

The slide on the treefort is yellow, and if we paint the treefort purple then it will look like...

I called Iz. "We can't paint the treehouse purple--" I began.
"We'll look like Laker fans!" she finished. "I know! We have to choose another color!"

At moments like these I can really look back and reflect proudly upon how well I've brought her up.

Too bad that sense of happiness was quickly dampened when I told my dad that we would have to switch colors.
"To what?" he said skeptically.
"Red?" I suggested hopefully (it'll look cute, okay?! like a fire engine).
He looked disgusted. "How about yellow?"
It was my turn to be disgusted. "The slide is yellow," I pointed out.
"I know," he said happily. "it'll match."

I was not pleased. I do not like different shades of the same color on one thing. Only the fact that my parents were paying for the paint and it was, technically, their treefort, and arguing over the color would be too much an investment for the three weeks out of the year that I'll actually be seeing the thing kept me from protesting. Still, the principle of the matter..

No, forget it. Moving on. My only consolation was that we chose a Disney paint color (so we got "Ho Hum Yellow"), but then the paint guy undid all the good that Disney's naming division created.

My dad was actually pretty well-prepared to buy paint, despite not being really a maintenance kind of guy. He knew the surface being covered (300 square feet), and made sure to tell the paint guy that it was for outdoor use and all that other lame home maintenance stuff that I know nothing about. But then the guy asked us what the paint was for.

"A treehouse," my dad said.
The guy looked at my dad like he was crazy. "A treehouse?" he echoed.
"Yes," my dad said patiently, "a treehouse."
"Like a house.." the guy said, slowly. "in a tree."
"Yes," my dad said, " a treehouse."
The guy made a gesture with his arms that I took to be a tree. "A. House. In. Tree."

Oh my god. At this point I wanted to deck him but he was old and I know sometimes old people freak out at accents and start acting like... this. So I didn't.

"That's a big treehouse," the guy said, still doubtful.
"Yes it is," my dad said. "300 square feet. Can we get the yellow paint?"

After he mixed the paint for us I think he felt bad about doubting our intentions for "Ho Hum Yellow," and also I kept glaring at him, so he started to make small talk. Not that it really helped his case.

"I built a treehouse for my daughter," he said, putting his hand at his waist to show about how big she was. "She was around nine."
My dad smiled. "Oh," he said. My dad is not a real conversational guy.
"I strung lights," the guy continued, making what I guess was a stringing motion. "you know, electricity?"
I opened my mouth to say, "Yes, my dad is familiar with electricity," but the guy continued.
"I had a tree house when I was little, too," he said nostalgically. "It makes you feel like.. you know, a king. King?" He pantomined a crown on his head.
"Jesus," I said, but just at that moment the paint was ready so we could get the heck on out of there.

And, just as a side note I guess, my sister and I totally didn't even help paint the treefort. We were totally willing to, but my dad said it was kinda high up and he and my mom thought it was too dangerous. Yeah I know. Princesses.