Wednesday, April 20, 2011

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure

My kids have an addiction to cardboard boxes.  The best part of a trip to Costco for them is all the cardboard boxes.  While we put the food away we toss the boxes to the edge of the kitchen making a small mountain of cardboard possibilities.  Then we ask the kids to take the boxes out to the recycling bin.  They take most of it out but always manage to sneak a box or two for themselves. 

They color the milk boxes to look like houses and ask us to cut a door in the side.  Gavin turns some boxes into laptops.  Irrelevant tangent:  Gwen wouldn’t get off the computer when it was Gavin’s turn to play so he hatched a plan.  He filled a drawing board with the alphabet in squares like a keyboard then he drew a princess on the other drawing board propped up against the wall and wrote Disney Princess at the top.  To complete the pretend computer, he asked me for the wireless mouse we gave Gwen to play with after it stopped working.  I loved the creativity in his problem solving.  She still refused to get off the real computer so I let her play the paper doll game on Ubi (my phone). 

Where was I?  Oh yeah, boxes.  Parker quickly snatched up a colorful Jelly Belly fruit snack box for himself.  I had to cut a door for him and he colored inside the box to make his house.  He played with it that day and maybe the next.  The problem I have with these “toy boxes” is that they always seem to be tossed wherever all over the house.  We ask the kids to put their toys away and the boxes stay on the floor in the way.  If the boxes do find their way up to the boys’ room they sit in the middle of the floor, or at the foot of the bed, or shoved in the closet or under a bed peeking out.  The problem with “toy boxes” is they aren’t really toys and they have no home.  I have chilled out a lot about clutter but I hate things that don’t have a home.  They seem to take up real estate in an eyesore kind of way and it makes me crazy! 

The Jelly Belly box was kicked around for a few days.  I tripped over it one day and decided to toss it in the recycling bin.  The next day I pulled into the garage after doing a school run and saw the box next to the garage wall.  The flappy door confirmed it was Parker’s box.  Just as I reached down to grab it and toss it I had the thought that maybe Heath was a softy and rescued it for Parker.  I left it there.  Not surprisingly the box found its way back into the house and underfoot. 

Me:  Parker, recycle this box please. 
Parker:  No, it’s my house! 
Me:  Were you the one who rescued it from the recycle bin?
P:  Yes!
M:  How did you know it was even in there?
P:  I just digged in there and found it. 

He finally agreed to get rid of it and when he did I asked Heath about the box.  He said he has never rescued it for Parker.  In fact, he said that Parker must have rescued it twice since Heath had tried to get rid of it before.  Parker is such a sneaky little bugger.  What will my children remember from their childhood?  Mom was always throwing away our coolest toys! 

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