When the world turns its back on you...

.....You turn your back on the world. Or put a box on your head, if one is available. After a fight with Ethan, Nate decided he wanted to put a box on his head for the night. I tried to talk to him to find out why he was doing this, but only monk-like silence came out of the box. Not a peep. Not a grunt. Even when Alex decided it must be a game and began to run around laughing and smacking the box around, he didn't move or make a sound.

Everyone was supposed to be in bed, but Nate refused to budge. So I left him in the living room while I put the rest of the kids to bed. I tried talking to him to see if I could help, but he wouldn't speak or even nod.

I entertained the thought of ripping the box off his head and dragging him to his room, but thought it might be better to just let him sit there until he either got up and went to bed or fell asleep.

After an hour had passed, I decided it was time and took my box-headed child's hand and guided him to his bed. He climbed into bed and tried to find a position which would allow him and his box to sleep together comfortably, but boxes on your head can make for a fitful nights sleep. (It was a good thing he had a box on his head though, because I could barely contain my laughter. lol)

I peeked in the handhold hole on the side of the box and said, "Nate, maybe if you got rid of your pillow, your box would lay down more flat and be more comfortable".

Nate whimpered back, "But Mom, I can't sleep without my pillow. I'll be uncomfortable".

"Hmm. How 'bout you take the box off your head then, so you can sleep comfortably on your pillow?"

"No."

After a few more minutes of trying to talk him into sleeping on feathers instead of cardboard, I said in a more stern voice, "Well, Nate, you can't keep the box on your head all night. I don't want you to suffocate."

"It doesn't smell good in here either."

"I can imagine. Let's take it off." I took the box off his head, gave him a hug and covered him up. I asked him if he was OK and he said he was, so I didn't press it. I just wanted to go relax and fall asleep. Exhausted from the day, I slowly walked out of his room, when I heard this tiny voice say, "I love you, Mom".

That's when I realized why my parents haven't killed me yet. I, too, had said little "I love you" statements after being punished for seeing a forbidden R rated movie or getting in trouble while fighting with my sister over whether the arm rest sitting between us should be up or down during the 24 hour drive from Arizona to Oregon.

The only reason I'm still here is because my parents also decided that my "I love you" voided any thought they may have had of strapping me and my sister to the top of the van so they could ride in peace. And for that same reason, Nate narrowly avoided being strung up by his toes and whipped with a wet noodle.