We went to a yard sale this morning. An acquaintance of mine was having a big clean out, and I was excited to go. I told my husband that there were tools and storage solutions that I wanted to look at; however, let’s face it, I went for the toys (sorry, honey).
I can’t resist picking up new toys here and there for the boys (which is probably why we have a playroom brimming with them), especially at yard sale prices. Also this friend promised plenty of vintage and wooden toys, and oh did she deliver.
So my sweet husband woke me up at 6 this morning to get ready to go to this sale, even though (due to my track record) he knew I wouldn’t be doing much looking at tools or storage solutions. I fed the baby, woke up the big boys, got us all dressed and out the door. When we arrived, they were still setting up the sale (I promise I wasn’t an annoying early bird, they just had a lot of stuff to put out, and 4 small children to delay them while doing it). I headed straight for the toys and began to collect more than I could hold. Once I had a decent sized grocery bag full of them, I figured I better stop before I had so much that my husband was bound to notice the extra
clutter treasures in the play room.
Liam (the 2 and 1/2 year old) was reluctant to leave, as he thought that the whole excursion was a strange version of a play date. However, the boys were both excited to pick a toy from the bag to hold in the car. Liam chose a big wooden school bus and Logan choose the Jack-In-The-Box. I showed him how the Jack-In-The-Box worked before we started driving, and he was enamored with it.
A couple of miles down the road he asked me a simple question. “Mama, why is this called Jack-In-The-Box?”
I responded, “That little man is named Jack, and he lives in the box; so it’s called a Jack-In-The-Box.”
“Does his name have to be Jack?”
“No, he’s your’s now. His name can be whatever you want it to be.”
The boys began tossing out names. Bob was a strong contender for a while, but Liam suggested Larry. (If you’ve ever seen VeggieTales you probably get the correlation.) They boys settled on the name Larry for the little man living in the box. Logan piped up, “His name is Larry. Now it’s called a Larry-In-The-Box.”
I suppose it is.
I feel like Larry-In-The-Box is our greatest treasure from the yard sale, just because of his awesome name. When Liam had his turn, he was struggling to turn the crank, and he turned to his brother. “Brudder, help wiff Larry-In-Da-Box pwease. Larry’s stuck in da box.”
Oh, Larry-In-The-Box, you’ve got a certain ring to you.