Son in the box

When I was Son's age, Ruth (our family's domestic worker and my second ma) used to put me in a cardboard box so I could sit with her while she did the house work. This was before I could sit on my own. With a skipping rope tied to the box Ruthiewe would pull me along the passage as she vacuumed the carpet and I would eat a chicken bone tied around my neck! I really don't remember this chicken bone, but it's in the story that Ruth relates and her memories from that time are more likely to be reliable than mine.

Yesterday Son was put into his very own box! Fikile and I padded it nicely with blankets and cushions, gave him a mirror and his ball and just let him be for a while.



The whole vibe really brought back my own fond box memory, devoid of the chicken bone as it may be.