There is a bit of a box theme running in this house at the moment.
One of DorkySon’s favourite playthings is what he calls his ‘random box’ – a large, lidded plastic container filled with an assortment of absolute tat. There are those dreadful cheap toys that you get free on the front of magazines – shaky little vehicles that lose a wheel the first time they go out on the road. There are golf balls that have been liberated from DorkyDad’s collection. There are pieces of tinsel and sparkly rosettes with small scraps of Christmas paper still attached. There are assorted collectors cards – Australian animals, Disney characters, Phillies players from the 2009 baseball season. There are slices of cardboard pizza that smell of basil – sort of. There are empty Kinder Surprise cases, and a couple of old phones with the batteries removed. There’s an egg timer and a magnifying glass, a plastic fishing rod with assorted sea creatures in lurid colours, a few pieces of doctor’s kit…
It really is stuffed with rubbish, but that one box can keep DorkySon entertained for hours. It fires up his imagination. He plays sorting activities and character games. He’ll fill a bowl up with water and splosh his way across the kitchen, before conducting an experiment to see which things from the box float and which ones sink. It is excellent proof that you don’t need expensive toys to keep a five-year old happy.
Last week, when I was doing a bit of rearranging upstairs, we stumbled across another box of delights – a cardboard container full of DorkySon’s old baby toys. We have already given away so many. Dozens of rattles, Bob the Builder trucks, plastic train sets and the like have made their way to charity shops and nurseries over the years. But there are a few that I’ve been too sentimental to discard, so I’ve kept them stashed in the back of a cupboard.
DorkySon was thrilled to find it, and even though he sees himself as very grown up these days he spent a good couple of hours rediscovering former favourites. He banged away on his rainbow-striped xylophone, shook his mini wooden maracas with great enthusiasm, and lined up all the animals from his red-roofed IKEA barn for a farmyard parade. His joy reassured me that it’s no bad thing for a nostalgic mama to hold on to some bits and pieces from the baby days.
The newest box-related ritual in the house does not involve me though. It is something that has started between DorkySon and DorkyDad – sprung up from nowhere, really – and takes place every night between bath time and bedtime.
DorkySon brings his secret box – a small wooden box with a decorative lid that he keeps on his bedside table – through to our room. He takes the contents – a gum nut, a rock, a favourite Lego minifigure and various other items of loveliness – and spreads them carefully out on the bed.
“Okay,” he says to DorkyDad. “You can choose one thing from my secret box to keep beside you tonight. Just one thing. Make it a good one.”
DorkyDad ponders this for a few minutes. He umms and ahhs about whether to choose a grinning Smurf or a miniature Norman Price, the bell from the neck of a Lindt bunny, or a raggedy looking pinecone. Eventually he settles on something suitably precious, and DorkySon hands it to him with a flourish.
“My turn now!” DorkySon squeals, bouncing up and down with excitement across the room.
DorkyDad brings down his own ‘secret box’. A treasure trove of cufflinks and old watches, badges, tiepins, buttons and rings.
DorkySon’s eyes light up.
“Hmmmm,” he says. “What’s it going to be?”
It’s tough to choose. Two green dice, or a beaded bracelet from Mozambique? A Dartmouth College lapel pin, or an old silver dollar?
After much deliberation, DorkySon makes his choice too. He clutches it tightly in one hand, runs through to his own room, and places the object on his bedside table.
“I’ll look after it,” he says. “Don’t worry. And when I look at it, I’ll think of you and all the fun times we have together.”
They hug each other good night. I watch a small, smiling tear form in the corner of DorkyDad’s eye.
The boy love keeps on growing.
One box at a time.
Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 
Oh, that’s so sweet, what a lovely read.
They are quite the pair 🙂 Thanks Katherine x
Just lovely. You’re so blessed with those two – deservedly. XX
True I am, m’dear xx
That’s SO precious. I just went ot see a play called a boy and his box at Nottingham playhouse a full on hour of the fun a boy has with a cardboard box, I love it ….thrifty, imaginative and timeless.
Sounds ace! I saw one at the Edinburgh Festival a few years ago called Bubblewrap and Boxes, and that was amazing too – if you ever get the chance to see it you should xx
BTW have you read Steven Biddulphs Raising Boys he says this dad identification alliance is a very common occurance around about 6 for boys.my son did this too I have to say lovely as it was I felt a little redundant after years of adoration!
I haven’t read it – probably should rather than continuing to wing it!
What a beautiful post and what a lovely routine. So precious.
Thanks chook x
That is LOVELY! I have a little tin like Dorky Sons, rammed with odds and sods of virtual rubbish – I take it with me when we go out for meals and it keeps Syd quiet for ages rummaging through the kinder treasures and magazine freebies!
Oooh, now that’s a good idea. I should put together something similar for our upcoming flights! x
This is gorgeous…. Little A has a few boxes just like this, full of total tat but she adores them, and is very possessive of her empty kinder shells :o). And she has a similar ritual in that when Dad used to go away for the week for work she would give him one of her prized teddies to take with him. Daddy rituals are the best! X
Ohhh, that’s a lovely thing to do. Are Younger Dad’s travels over now? Must be lovely for you to be back together as a family more xx
My girls collect boxes and move their tat from box to box. Drives me nuts. But their favourite boxes are their memory boxes of baby things: they must make me get them out once a week. It fascinates them that they were so small.
Ahh, that’s so sweet Kelly. T has gone through a phase recently of looking through loads of his old baby photos, so I’m sure he’d love a little memory box too x
Such a lovely and sweet read 🙂
Thanks!
So so sweet…. We used to have a small box at home that we were only allowed to open if we were sick, it had a small tin of coloured buttons, a couple of books, some pencils, and a few other bits I can’t quite remember, but it made being ill quite fun when I was little! 😀
Ooh, what a good idea! I’m stealing that!
I never kept anything from when they were a baby.Mia has recently taken to spread all her LEGO and minifigures into several boxes instead of the designated (by me) boxes.She says it’s so she knows where they all are.I feel guilty now that she just wanted a ‘special’ place.
Ahhh, maybe you could find her a little box in a charity shop – they always seem to be full of them – and designate it as her special place for keeping secret things 🙂 x
What a precious read. Those two are so darned cute!
I know – amn’t I lucky?! x
That is so sweet. Love the way kids keep these little treasures (or crap!). The bond between dads and their kids is so special.
Ha yes! One man’s crap is definitely another man’s treasure!
I love this Ruth, DorkySon and DorkyDad have such a lovely relationship, it’s a joy to read about x
Thanks Annie 🙂 It’s a joy to watch them too x
This is so precious. I really think you print off these stories and have them published as a book
Just beautiful, children are amazing. i just want to hold onto mine and keep them little and so very sweet forever. xxx
I loved this so much 🙂 the relationship between a dad and his boy is such a precious thing x
That is so beautiful, Ruth! What a sweet and loving ritual that you get to watch every night.
Well that brought a tear to my eye. What a lovely thing to do for each other,a tradition that can go on and on. I have a drawer at home full of “stuff” and my grandchildren love raking through it ,keeps them amused for age.
That’s lovely. What a sweet post and beautiful x