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By Doggie đ¶ â Chief Architect, Snack Bar Supervisor
1. The Original Fort (A Humble Beginning)
It started as a cozy two-blanket, three-pillow situation â a snug little hideout with just enough space for snacks, naps, and one emergency cookie stash.
But then I had a vision.
What if⊠our blanket fort became a plush metropolis?
Multiple âdistricts.â Snack bars. Nap pods. A lookout tower made entirely of couch cushions.
Mini Blue glowed yellow (interest). Pandy sighed.
2. The Blueprint (Sort Of)
My âplansâ were drawn in crayon on the back of a pizza box:
Main Hall: For cookie negotiations.
Nap District: Extra-fluffy pillows only.
Snack Market: Constantly replenished cheese cubes.
Pillow Tower: For âsecurity purposesâ (really just for dramatic views).
Pandy reviewed it and said, âWhereâs the structural integrity? And⊠permits?â
3. The Bureaucracy Begins
Pandy pulled out an actual clipboard (where does he even keep these things?) and said weâd need:
Zoning for the Snack Market (âno crumbs in the Nap Districtâ).
Noise limits for late-night marshmallow roasting.
A âsafety inspectionâ for the Pillow Tower.
Mini Blue turned teal (tension). I may have yelled, âDown with red tape!â while holding a cheese cube aloft.
4. The Compromise
Eventually, we reached an agreement:
I could build the Pillow Tower if it stayed under âthree cushions tall.â
Pandy installed a âcrumb sweepâ policy.
Mini Blue became the official Fort Inspector, glowing mint green when all was well.
5. The Grand Opening
By the end of the day, the Blanket Fort Metropolis was alive with snacks, naps, and soft lighting (courtesy of glow sticks).
Mini Blue glowed bright yellow (approval).
Pandy sipped his tea in the Nap District.
And I whispered: âWho needs zoning permits when youâve got cookies?â