Our son has never had a proper room. He’s had places to sleep, of course — a bassinet alongside our bed, a crib while we were living in the barn, a petite room in the apartment we just moved out of. For four years, he’s heard about the room we’re building for him, but it’s always been an idea. Something beyond his fingertips. A someday, not a now.
Quite by mistake, this put on the pressure. He’s had years of dreaming up a room, and his imagination has gone wild. There were moments when his bed was, he was certain, to be a hammock. When everything would be a trampoline. When the walls would all be some bright garish color that makes me think of TLC house decorating shows in the early aughts. With each suggest we were not going to take, we tried to tuck something away for later.
There was a desire for space for physical activity, a modularity that could grow with him and shift with his interests, and a quite age-appropriate attraction to the idea of playfulness and fun. The trick was in finding where his grand ideas and our design sensibilities could meet.
We do not — and you are welcome to critique us for this — live in kid-friendly spaces. This poses a challenge when you have a kid. At least half of our chairs are “look at” not “sit in” objects, tables do not want elbows on them, and treasured art is everywhere. Our son has had to navigate this since day one, building Hot Wheels tracks over 19th century trunks, cuddling with the cat in a 18th century wingback armchair, and suffering through a ban on bouncy balls indoors.
We don’t have a television, there is no ‘den’, and his room will be bedchamber and playroom. Don’t pity him too much, though. It’s big.
As we dreamed up what would go in the room, he had a say on some things and has been surprised by others. The trim was painted only after his approval of the color. The rug was selected from our collection based on what feel and colors we wanted. The bed was found at auction before he could walk and saved for the “big boy bed” reveal. It was, luckily, a hit.
His grandparents gifted him a wood climbing ladder and staplestein blocks for his birthday, and Ben hunted down the chandelier.
For much of the last four years, Ben has had an idea of what chandelier he wanted his son to have. It would be big, playful, and, unfortunately, expensive. The object of his affection was a hot air balloon form. Late 20th century. Gilded. Purposefully out of proportion with the space. Like this one…but not that price. The budget was very close to $0. His dream, we’d determined, would have to be delayed.
But, oh, for Facebook Marketplace! Of course, Ben found one in need of a rewire that an electrician had pulled out of a house and was offering for a song. It was in New Hampshire, though, and as we rush to finish and move in there isn’t time for that drive. That’s when his parents donned their magical fairy grandparent capes and road tripped it up north for a chandelier rescue mission.
After some time rewiring and testing, the chandelier was installed and revealed. A sense of magic filled the room.
We will need to put a table or chest below it, as I’ve already knocked my head (it hangs down to about 5 foot 3 inches, and I’m one inch taller). I’ve been assured that this is the price of whimsy. It feels like a fair exchange.