One of my favorite books is Little Boy (by Alison McGhee) - about a boy & his big cardboard box. My little boy actually prefers the little monster books more but sometimes I'll assert my parental rights & pull it out. Even if he's not into the writing, he LOVES the real thing. And, as part of our clean the basement effort, in addition to me contemplating my book stash, my husband has also finally released the ginormous TV box for general use. You know, the TV that's so old it's dying - we still have the original box. I make fun of him for hoarding, but I just disclosed my book fetish so I suppose I'm on thin ice (badda-da-dum). And the boxes are arguably just as useful...
This is the boy's TV.
[No, this is not a commentary about our poverty]
He and his cousins cut it up so they could do Shows.
Here he is giving me a cooking demonstration.
A much needed one, some would argue.
The Artist, disturbed.
...by Baby Godzilla
But so cute, who could stay mad?
Here she is, practicing her Wheeeeee!
Presumably in preparation for her next gleeful city-stomping.
Which she finds incredibly funny.