When I was little, I used to adore cubby houses. This adoration ended in a series of irritating furniture manoeuvres and blankets thrown over random objects. One of these was a semi-permanent one built around my bunk bed using most of my family's sheets. The next step was to create an outdoor one, once I got sick of the blanket one. Clearly, as an eight-year-old, what one says, goes. So I demanded that an elevated, wooden one be built in my front yard. I then proceeded to cover the entire thing, railings and all, in tiny pink and blue hand prints. But, in the end, unfortunately, it was no where near as lovely as these ones.