Breaking Out The Box
About this time of year, every year, my mom would say to her seven rowdy children, “I’m going to pack you in a box and ship you to grandma’s house.”
I don’t have seven, and my three aren’t that rowdy. . . but some days it’s tempting. My parents planned a different alternative. They’ve invited my children and my sister’s children to cousin camp on their farm.
Thanks, Mom. You’ve let me out of the box for an entire week.
Little did I know, then, how boxed in she felt playing entertainer to all our demands, or worse, referee to our contention.
So, Paul and I get to live outside the box for the next week. I’m breaking out of the child-friendly meals to try some of those impractical recipes he marked in bon appétit. We’re breaking out of the bedtime routine and may stay up later than the sun sets on a summer night in Minnesota. And, I’m taking a break offline—from blogging and tweeting—to read and write other important words without all the noise.
I imagine when it’s over we will welcome the structure of our familiar box, but right now, here’s to happy packing for them and unpacking for me.