I yelled down from the platform: "Alyssa, grab a 2x4 and cut it to 32 inches."
My 10-year-old walked to the lumber pile, selected the right board, measured it twice, marked it with a pencil, and ran it through the miter saw. She handed me a perfectly cut board and waited, anxiously, wondering if she'd done it right.
She had. It was perfect.
She jumped with joy—the kind of pure excitement that reminds you why you do any of this in the first place.
That moment crystallized something I've been figuring out about AI: it didn't build this treehouse. My kids and I did that. But AI gave me the capacity to be present as a teacher instead of being overwhelmed as a project manager.
Here's how that happened.
The Problem: A Playhouse That Outgrew My Kids
During COVID, we built a playhouse around our backyard ficus tree. It was a combination of a basic tree platform, a rope bridge, and a Costco prefab playhouse with a slide—connected together into what felt like a magical adventure land for little kids.
It served its purpose for that season. But kids grow. What worked for toddlers and early elementary kids doesn't work for tweens and teens. The slide became irrelevant. The playhouse cottage felt cramped. The whole thing screamed "little kid space" when what we needed was a teen hangout—somewhere for reading, studying, hanging out with friends, or just escaping into the branches.
So I decided to tear it down and build something new.
One problem: I had six kids available to help, ages 6 to 16, with little to no construction experience between them. Steven (6), Alyssa (8), Faith (10), Sophia (12), Alex (13), and Jakob (16). None of them had ever used a miter saw. Most had never held a power drill. And I'm not exactly a master carpenter myself.
The old me would have spent weeks researching treehouse designs, calculating materials, watching YouTube tutorials, and probably giving up before cutting the first board.
Instead, I asked ChatGPT to help.
How AI Became My Project Manager
Here's where most people misunderstand AI image generation. They think it's just for making pretty pictures—fantasy castles and impossible architecture that could never actually be built.
I used it differently.
After we demolished the old structure, I measured everything:
Distance from the trunk to the wall
Circumference of the tree at multiple heights
Available vertical clearance
Existing branch positions
Then I uploaded photos of the bare tree along with all those measurements and asked ChatGPT to design a treehouse that would actually fit within those constraints.
The concepts it generated weren't fantasy—they were dimensionally accurate to MY tree, MY yard, MY specific situation. This is the difference between AI as entertainment and AI as a spatial planning tool.
But the design was just the beginning.
From Concept to Complete Materials List
Once we settled on a direction, I asked ChatGPT to spec out every piece of material I'd need:
What size boards would support the platform
How many 2x4s for framing
What type of screws and bolts are used for structural connections
Joist hangers, brackets, and all the hardware
I told it I'd be sourcing from Home Depot. ChatGPT confirmed they had everything, gave me SKU numbers, and generated a complete order list I could hand to an associate to pull.
The result: When I got to Home Depot, I wasn't wandering aisles, guessing. I had a precise list. And because it was accurate, we had almost no waste—no extra trips for forgotten materials, no pile of unused lumber at the end.
This is AI compressing what would have been days of research and multiple store runs into a single afternoon.
AI as Crew Foreman
Here's the part that surprised me most.
I told ChatGPT about my construction crew: six kids, ages 6-16, with zero experience and limited attention spans. I asked for guidance on how to engage each of them at age-appropriate levels.
It delivered:
For the younger kids (Steven, Alyssa):
Delivery roles—carrying cut pieces from the saw to the build site
Cleanup crew during breaks
Low-stakes practice like screwing floorboards (forgiving, non-structural)
For the middle kids (Faith, Sophia):
Learning to measure ("measure twice, cut once" became our mantra)
Holding boards while I secured them
Graduating to using the drill on forgiving tasks
For the older kids (Alex, Jakob):
Full miter saw training with supervision
Taking the lead on specific sections
Problem-solving when things didn't line up as planned
This wasn't generic advice. It was a framework for turning six inexperienced kids into a functional crew, each contributing at their level.
The Build: A Labor of Love
We started during Fall Break—a two-week window that felt like enough time to make serious progress. We worked weekends after that, adding more whenever we found time.
The structure grew through the ficus branches. Platform first, then posts, then the elevated cabin section. The kids learned as we went. They watched me make cuts, then tried themselves. They held boards while I drove screws, then took over the drill.
When things didn't quite line up—because trees don't grow in straight lines and plans don't survive contact with reality—I pulled the kids in: "What do you guys think we should do here?"
They learned problem-solving, not just following instructions.
When the Plan Met Reality
Here's where I have to be honest: AI didn't give me a perfect plan on the first try.
Partway through construction, I realized the support beams we'd specced weren't going to be strong enough. The structure needed to hold multiple kids—potentially all six at once, plus friends. As we built the framework, it felt lighter than it should.
So I went back to ChatGPT with photos of what we'd built so far and asked direct questions about structural integrity. After a quick analysis, it identified the problem: I needed a larger framework to support the overall weight. We adjusted, upgraded the support beams, and kept building.
Then another issue: sway.
The floor joists had movement I didn't like. Not dangerous, but not confidence-inspiring either. Back to ChatGPT: "How do I eliminate this sway?"
The solution was corner brackets—diagonal bracing that locked the structure into rigidity. It's a simple fix once you know how to do it, but I wouldn't have known how to do it without asking.
This is what real AI collaboration looks like. Not a perfect plan you execute blindly, but an ongoing conversation where problems get solved as they emerge. The kids watched this process too—dad doesn't have all the answers, but he knows how to find them.
The Moments I Won't Forget
Alyssa's perfect board is one. But there were others.
Steven's imagination corner: My six-year-old had the shortest attention span of the crew, which is normal for his age. But he found his own project. While we built the treehouse, he gathered scrap pieces—the offcuts and mistakes—and started building his own creation in a corner of the yard. Hammering nails, stacking blocks, yelling, "Hey Dad, check out THIS building I'm making!"
He was learning the same lessons we were, just on his own terms.
Kyler's surprise addition: My 21-year-old, who's helped me build countless projects over the years, showed up one weekend to pitch in. He took his skills to the uppermost level and built a hanging swing—a reading nook with cushions, perfect for getting lost in a book among the branches.
All the kids love Kyler's addition. And I loved having him there, passing skills to the younger kids. Nothing makes a dad prouder than watching your older kids share what they've learned with their siblings.
Where We Are Now
As of this writing, the treehouse is about 90% complete. We still have decorative railings, accent pieces, and a section of roof to add. But it's functional. The kids use it daily.
Now that we've entered the holiday season, it's decorated with Christmas lights and plenty of holiday joy. What started as a practical project has become something more—a physical artifact of time spent together, skills learned, problems solved as a family.
What AI Actually Did (And Didn't Do)
Let me be clear about what happened here.
AI did:
Design a structure that fits my actual space and measurements
Generate a precise materials list with SKUs for easy ordering
Provide age-appropriate guidance for engaging my kids
Diagnose structural issues mid-build and recommend fixes
Compress weeks of research and planning into hours
AI didn't:
Swing a hammer
Hold a board while someone else drives screws
Problem-solve when a branch was in the way
High-five a 10-year-old after her first perfect cut
Build a scrap-wood creation in the corner of the yard
Add a reading swing so siblings could share something beautiful
The treehouse was built by human hands—small ones learning, older ones teaching, dad's ones guiding.
AI's role was simpler but crucial: it handled the cognitive load of planning so I could be present for the building.
The Deeper Lesson
I've been thinking a lot about what AI is actually for. Not the hype version—not "AI will do everything for you" or "AI will replace human workers." The real version.
The treehouse taught me this: AI creates capacity for what matters most.
Without AI, I would have spent Fall Break researching, calculating, driving to Home Depot multiple times, and probably getting frustrated enough to hire someone or abandon the project. My kids would have watched. Maybe helped a little. Mostly been in the way.
With AI, I spent Fall Break building with my kids. Teaching them to measure. Watching Faith's face when her cut came out perfect. Listening to Steven narrate his own construction project. Working alongside Kyler one more time before he heads back to his own life.
Technology should serve relationships, not replace them.
This treehouse—the one decorated with Christmas lights right now, the one my kids climb into every day—is proof that it can.
If You Want to Try This
Here's the framework I'd suggest:
Measure everything. Give AI real constraints—dimensions, distances, clearances. The more specific you are, the more buildable the output.
Ask for materials lists tied to real stores. Don't let AI give you generic specs. Tell them where you're buying from and ask for confirmation that the parts exist.
Include your crew. Tell AI who's helping and their experience levels. Ask for engagement strategies, not just build instructions.
Return to AI when problems emerge. The first plan won't be perfect. When something doesn't feel right—structural integrity, sway, fit—go back with photos and specific questions. AI is a conversation partner, not a one-time oracle.
Expect to problem-solve together. AI won't account for every branch, every quirk of your specific situation. That's where the real teaching happens anyway.
Document the process. Take photos. Your future self will want to remember Faith's jump, Steven's imagination corner, and the lights going up for Christmas.
The treehouse is 90% done. The memories are 100% made.
That's what AI is for.
Created with ❤️ by humans + AI assistance 🤖