The Living Room is Full

We ordered a whole bunch of new car seats.  Found out the hard way that the $70 car seat, while nice on the pocket book, is markedly different from a $300, and functional, car seat.  The straps stick! Hard to feel safe, but it worked so we tolerated and drove extra safe.  Then the oft rumored, but seldom seen “Big Car Seat Sale” happened.  The car seats that work were more than half off so we bought four to spread between us and grandparents.  Trust worthy car seats are awesome if expensive. I remember when the firstborn came around and we began saying, “wow, remember how much extra cash we had when there was no kid to feed?”  That phrase has morphed into “wow, remember how much extra cash we had there was only one kid to feed?”  Ah, cash flow (you can buy my books right here!).

The real might of the purchase came in bringing the might card board box back into the house.  Four of them.  It has been some time since large boxes have filled the living room.  This is the first time the toddler has been able to explore the fun of cardboard while mobile.  It has been an adventure.

Any excuse to use a flashlight, the oldest is there.  With his crayon box (a painted Folgers container because we have lots) in hand, he took to the network of car seat boxes and made short work of decorating the insides.  He’s been introduced to hieroglyphs since his last cardboard box adventure; I do so very hope he was imagining carving into the walls of a tomb (but not in a morbid way).

When the oldest tired of the boxes, the vacancy was quickly filled.  Ever in a quest to do whatever his older brother is doing, the toddler climbed into the lead box and tried his best replicate his perception of how his brother played.

The toddler has a very unique style of play; a style of destruction.

The four boxes are lined up one after another, tops folded into their neighbors creating a neat sort of doorway system.  The firstborn loves this.  He moves between cells and pops up where they meet pretending, of course, to be Han Solo in the Millennium Falcon.  He races from one end of the tunnel network to the other shouting “Chewie get us out of here!” and has a blast.  The toddler is not quite up to such feats.  The cardboard door ways are a little stiff for him to successfully navigate through and there’s no hope of moving the top flaps out of his way.  Next round of cardboard boxes I’m sure this will not be an issue.

I would like to understand the draw of sitting in the box.  Is there safety in the confinement?  Does the box become something an adult mind can no longer fathom?  Is the simplicity of the box what makes it such a great toy?  I doubt understanding will ever come, but they don’t sit in the living room for me.  Well, in a way they do, not even TV babysits as well as these boxes have been.  Sitting in the box seems to be more than enough fun for a night.  Perhaps gnawing on crayons made the toddler’s evening, but I’m going to credit the fun of limitless possibilities presented by cardboard.  Lesson of the day, as long as the living room is full of boxes, it is full of happy little humans.

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