I don’t think that there is a mom out there, in this big wide world, that does not understand the value of a box.
Yes, I said a BOX. You know, usually brown, fairly strong cardboard, cut out and folded and stuck together to make a square or rectangular structure – commonly used to move house, carry groceries and store ‘stuff’ in the garage rafters that we no longer need or use but just can’t part with. A box to a kid, I would say, is like honey to a Pooh Bear – they just can’t walk past one without getting stuck in.
And who can blame them, I mean, they are quite exciting. If big enough then you can climb into it, or turn it upside down and sit on top of it, or if you sit on the floor then mom or dad can cover you with it (a cut out window makes this a winner), and you can even turn it sideways and sit inside it like Pooh Bear would sit in his little house.
If my daughter receives a gift, and it is in a reasonably sized box, then please don’t take it personally but the gift inside is most definitely a second runner-up to that glorious box that it came in. She will eventually drool all over the box so much that it will become a soggy mess, and we will have to take it away and chuck it into the bin, which will most likely lead to tears and a tantrum. BUT THEN we will wave the actual gift in front of her – and that’s when the runner-up will become the new prize. That’s just the way it is…sorry.
see the Kalahari box … and see the gift next to it
which is getting more attention?
Point proven, goodnight