Photo by Julie Piraino.

With curlicue flourishes, Ellen Psychas and Bing Yee have issued a digital plea for rescue. Their princess treehouse in Capitol Hill has become the damsel in distress. The villain is either busybody neighbors, the city’s tangled bureaucracy, or the couple themselves, depending on who you ask, but those who sympathize with the family’s plight can now pitch in.

Psychas and Yee spent weeks trying to figure out the right permits, consulting an arborist, and finally building the white and cornflower blue playhouse over five weekends. At one point in the process, the Department of Public Transportation issued a “balcony permit,” and the family held a grape-juice filled celebration. “We didn’t know it really had just begun,” Psychas recalls.

Following protestations from nearby residents and a hefty amount of media attention, DDOT’s Public Space Committee ruled recently that the structure, which juts out 20 inches into Archibald Walk, cannot remain where it is. While some of their neighbors were rejoicing at the decision, the couple pledged that they’d rebuild it entirely on their property, even if it took some sacrifices. “Ramen noodles, cancel the cable,” Yee declared at the time. “We are saving that treehouse.”

In addition to cancelling a planned trip to Disneyland, they’ve let down their hair in the form of a website, Gofundme page, and an account at Fragers that would-be saviors can donate to.

“My kids know the neighbors want their princess castle ‘snatched,’ as they say. They’re just obsessed, telling us, ‘ Mommy, Daddy, save the princess castle,'” Psychas says. “I feel like we’ll regret it in a big way if we don’t try.”

Still, they estimate that saving the treehouse will cost more than they spent building it. To preserve the fort, they’ll need to dismantle and rebuild the support system, and rework the facade. Although the family did all the work themselves last time around, this time they say they’ll need a professional contractor. And they’ll have to call the arborist back to make sure the tree isn’t harmed in the process (there is also an issue of timing, since tree experts recommend waiting until April or May, when there is less sap, to drill—but DDOT’s standard removal order is for 50 days). The pair has committed to the project regardless, but they’re hoping for some help from the community.

“On the advice of the pastor at our church, we will be sending a letter to the objecting neighbors, with the link, and a let’s-end-the-conflict-by-relocating-our-tree-house message,” Psychas says.

So to say that the treehouse caused the couple more trouble than they expected would be a wild understatement. But wherever you fall on the debate about who was to blame here, it seems pretty clear that things got unnecessarily out of hand.

To that end, Psychas and Yee have sent a petition to DDOT, DCRA, and the Historic Preservation Office to come up with formal rules for treehouse construction.

“We had asked these questions and they weren’t being answered,” Psychas says. ‘Different people will give you different answers. It is a complete circus and you get caught in a mess of bureaucracy.” Their petition asks the agencies to come up with formal rules for some very basic issues, like how big such a structure can be and when a homeowner is required to get a building permit.

“No matter how you feel about this issue we’re all better off if there’s treehouse rules,” Psychas says. “Being controversial is very tiring. I want to be really law abiding and get my treehouse back.”

Read Ellen Psychas and Bing Yee’s proposed treehouse rules in full