Thank you for your unsolicited submission of a Blanket Fort to this household’s two-person Parental Design Committee for approval. Normally, the Committee prefers to be notified of new construction in advance, but one Committee member (who shall remain nameless in their role as “Dad”) did ignore the sound of the linen closet and toy chest repeatedly opening and closing, along with several squeals of excitement, so the fault is probably on the Committee.

In order to ensure compliance with the rules and regulations set forth in both last week’s playtime and last week’s subsequent timeout, the Committee has a few notes about your Blanket Fort.

The use of multiple exterior facades, including the blanket from Buster’s dog bed and what appears to be a Summer Camp T-Shirt, is commendable. However, in terms of internal safety, it is clear your central column cannot be considered a load-bearing Tickle-Me-Elmo. We also doubt the structural integrity of a Razor Scooter, and also doubt those rubber skid marks on the wooden floor are coming out any time soon.

Normally we’d ask for more than one method of egress, but we’re fairly certain all occupants can push past the blanket walls and, if necessary, simply stand up through the quilt roof.

Speaking of occupants, we set Blanket Fort capacity at four Labubus, yet a fifth Labubu is clearly present.

The Committee is concerned the crevice between the Blanket Fort and the couch is the best location to store your forgotten Kraft Cheddar Cheese Strings. Similar constructions, like 2023’s Bedroom Blanket Complex, were given culinary zoning variances with disastrous consequences, including a three-month lost supply of GoGurts behind the radiator, an event several experts dubbed “Chocolate Chernobyl” that led to a three-night stay in the Holiday Inn Express.

As such, the Committee is denying your request for snack storage but is happy to permit the opening of a plastic-food kitchen. Based on your tears, I see you are unmoved by this compromise, or you need to use the potty. In either case let’s put this on hold and run to the bathroom.

The Committee is impressed by the inclusion of your stuffed Freddy the Frog, which we certainly did not assume was lost forever and have been putting off having a conversation with you about.

Our strongest protest is aesthetically, we do not feel the glass of spilled chocolate milk is in harmony with the rest of the living room, which as you can see features very little overturned glasses or permanent brown stairs on a brand new white rug.

While we certainly understand the designer’s intentions (wanting a glass of chocolate milk, being told you cannot have a glass of chocolate milk, still wanting the glass of chocolate milk), the Committee is forced to levy a twenty-minute timeout penalty, which we see you are immediately appealing with a red face and tiny balled fists. Appeal denied, please deposit Freddy the Frog with the Committee and head toward the bedroom. The Committee would also like to remind the designer we of course still love them very much.

As a final note, the Committee is concerned about the structure contributing to noise pollution, given both the Living Room District’s quiet hours and the designer’s bedtime of 8:00 PM. While we can certainly entertain the idea of one-off variances, such as when Nanna and Pop-Pop visit, we are hesitant to permanently allow those extended hours after last week’s Tuesday night Pillow Fight debacle.

We appreciate your time considering this design feedback, and are now seeing it was highly unnecessary as you’ve reimagined the blanket fort as a blanket nest and are deep in the throes of an afternoon nap.

The Committee moves to table the discussion for, god willing, two quiet, peaceful hours.