There have been lots of moving boxes around my house lately. My eight-year-old son decided to usurp one of them. I found him parked in front of the TV, inside the box, wrapped up in a sleeping bag.
"Bubba, what are you doing?" I asked.
I guess that was obvious. "Okay. But why are you doing it in a box?"
"Because it's fun."
Of course. Why else would he do it? "But Bubba, I need that box for packing."
"Mama, this is my box. I'm all cushioned and comfy inside. You can tape it up and send me to Georgia just like this!"