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Box Therapy

It’s a tote.  And that’s a box. 

And the truth is, sometimes I just want to sit in one, too.  To pull the flaps and peek out.  And not because I think I could get out of the tote without four people pulling, two pushing, and one shouting encouragement, but because I just want to pretend like my children do.  Pretend that no one can see me.   That dinner is ready and ain’t nobody complainin’ that it’s not what they wanted.  That the marker in the carpet will come out.  That my children are wearing more than underwear.

Just for five minutes or so…

I want to hide.

Which I think is exactly what my son is doing.  Only we can, uh, see him.

And which is the exact experience my son thinks the cat also desires.

The dog, too. 

Only the dog’s is more like a motor home.

Which is what I’d prefer over a box.  Or a mobile Thomas tent.

But whatever brings reprieve will do.

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2 Responses to “Box Therapy”

  1. Pastor Brad says:

    Right now, my children are also playing in totes. We got the GeoTrax out of the garage and let them play with them today. Yet somehow, the most fun of it all was playing in the rubbermaid totes that they were stored in!

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