Life in a Box

One day last week while J.P. was out of school for spring break, Jude saw our neighbor, James, unloading a new hot water heater.  She and J.P. walked over to James' house and asked him if we could have the box in which the hot water heater had been packed.  I, of course, would never have thought to do that nor would I have thought that J.P. would want a giant box to play in, eat in, put stuff in and color with magic markers.

Jude knew better.  She's smart that way, you know?

Anyway, when I got home from work and walked inside our house, the first thing I saw was a giant box in the middle of the den, in front of the fireplace.  Then, the top popped up and J.P. jumped up and said something along the lines of "hi, Daddy, I'm a turtle."  I'm not sure whether I was more confused by what he said or the fact that there was a giant box laying in the middle of the den floor.  It wasn't something I expected to see when I walked in the door, that's for sure.

Of course, that's one of the great things about children, I think - you never know what you're going to see or get when you walk in the door from work.  It's kind of the whole Forrest Gump "life is like a box of chocolates" philosophy, only on a smaller scale.

I subsequently learned that he had stayed home with Jude's parents the entire day, turning down offers from them to take him to the Adventure Science Center, the Downtown Library, the park, etc.  He just wanted to play in his box.  That night, he ate dinner in his box, as well.  And I'm not even kidding.