In Which Connor Loves The Box

So my child has, sitting untouched in his room, several hundred dollars worth of developmental toys.  He has around 300 books.  He has a rocking horse, a race car track and a tricycle.  He has a swing suspended from his bedroom ceiling, for Pete's sake.

Guess what he wants to play with?

Yes, that's right.  The Box.  I'm relatively convinced that this is some sort of universal principle and that every child between the ages of two and eight-- regardless of their life circumstances-- believes that The Box represents the pinnacle of all things that are fun and will prefer it to any other source of amusement.  Toy manufacturers have been trying to recreate the essence of that recycled cardboard goodness for years and have never quite managed it. 

We are never in short supply of The Box around here because Connor's g-tube supplies arrive every month neatly packaged in four large brown cartons made out of 100% pure hilarious entertainment.  Connor used to be only marginally interested in The Box, but all of the sudden his eyes were opened to the wonders contained within and he couldn't get enough of it.  Now for a large portion of the afternoon on delivery day, this is what you'll see in our household:



That little finger-curling hand motion you see him make with his right hand each time before The Box descends upon his head is his sign for "want," by the way.  Connor must have worried that the ear-piercing shrieks of excitement weren't going to tip us off. 

So until I take out the recycling, all of those toys, games and developmental activities can stay in Connor's room.  Right now The Box is here, and Connor is over the moon about it.

I'll do anything for a chance to hear that little squeaky bicycle-wheel laugh.

~Jess