In the box

We were back in Bournemouth this week for more babysitting. Rain and a strong and bitingly cold wind kept us indoors, no strolling on the beach this trip. Our grandson played happily with a wooden shapes box made by Galt that we had bought forty-seven years ago for our first child. At some point the lid had needed glueing back together, but overall it has stood up rather well to a great deal of action!
This is how you do it, Grandad.
   
The house is crammed with toys, not only the old ones kept by us but also a great many hand-me-ons from friends and new purchases from family members and irresistible objects bought by the parents themselves.
Not every little  person of twenty months has a retro kitchen to prepare his nibbles in! (Thanks to his paternal grandmama.)

But, despite a plethora of toys, the hit of the week was a cardboard box. He hid in it, pushed about in it, rocked in it, chucked toys into it and threw them out again.

Every day a bit more messing about in an ever more fragile cardboard box!

      

  I
It was fun!