So I had a big birthday this summer, one that ends in 0. I needed some new toys as a salve to the onset of middle age. What does a middle-aged grad student need? A new weight bench!
My son was at a sleepover, but my daughter was extraordinarily interested in the big box sitting on our porch. She kept asking when I was going to open it and offering to help. And she really was helpful. First, she helped me haul all of the little pieces from our front porch into the basement. Then, I had asked her to remind me to take the box cutter back inside and she did. Then she insisted on cleaning up all the packaging materials herself – sending me inside.
The motivation for her diligence became apparent when she asked, “Daddy, what are you going to do with the box?”
It was a pretty big box, I could see her point so I gave it to her to play with.
The boxes were about six feet long and maybe a foot and half wide so she tried to make bunk beds – but I vetoed that plan since they were only cardboard. She pretended they were canoes and built the inevitable fort.
When her brother came home the next night, things got really interesting.
Their camp includes a magic unit, so my son is constantly trying out card tricks on us. The immigration cycle in America is a tremendous thing taking us within a few generations from working class to professional to charlatan. It isn’t exactly full circle, more like a death spiral.
Besides card tricks he is learning Houdini style escapes. So, he would lie in the closed box (with his hands “tied” up) while his sister would pile objects on top of the box. He would free himself, burst out, and we would time his escape. Then it was GoofGirl’s turn to make great escapes.
Then it got weird…
They played cemetery. One would lie in the box, eyes closed. The box was almost closed, with only the head exposed. The unboxed sibling sat beside it and wailed. They even found another flat piece of cardboard to prop up and use as a tombstone.
Are we becoming the Adams Family?
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