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When Fun is the Box

It started with a simple, “hey, bud. You wanna play ‘ice cream shop?’  

Only by the time I rounded the corner my son was already serving the stuff up from his shop window and telling his sister she could have the donut flavored kind.

Which she quickly ate with both hands and claimed she loved.

And which reminded me why we haven’t been able to part with a few boxes despite them nearly turning to crumbs.

It’s just that somebody always finds another use for them. Like this diaper box.  Which is practically family.

That my son hurtled around the house with his whole body in this box, wearing a Santa hat he swiped off his sister’s head was about as exciting as our evening got.

Which wasn’t remotely exciting, unless you count the eleventh lap…


where my son simply didn’t come round the corner.  In any form.

‘Cause he was taking a breather by the stairs.

Only by the time I peeked in the box, he was staring back at me from the other side.  Which meant he’d revived long enough to attempt another lap.

Until that wasn’t such a good idea, and he ran out of gas for good. 

And me, heh…

I saved that ‘good-for-nothin’ box…

for one more day.


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