Let’s talk about boxes…

You ever wonder about boxes?  Me either.  Until…

My wife sells Avon.   I wouldn’t say it is a huge money maker, but she enjoys it.  Every other week or so, she gets four or five boxes.  We also order regularly from Amazon.com.  So, we had this stack of boxes in our house, most of them get recycled.  They are fairly uniform in depth and width.  Some are even the same height.

Have you ever noticed how each box is different?

This box is taller than that box.  That box is narrower than this box over here.  This box is brown, that box is white.  Some boxes have writing on them, others don’t.

The amazon boxes even come with pockets of air.  Not sure what to think about those boxes.

Image representing UPS  as depicted in CrunchBase

I recently received a package from a good friend that was shipped from The UPS Store.  It was uniform.  same height, width and depth.  It was a perfect square, until I opened it.

Just like boxes appear to be similar, after all most are made of some type of cardboard.  People can appear to be similar.

No two kids with special health care needs are alike.  Sure they may have the same diagnosis, heck they could be twins.  But each would have one aspect of their make-up that is unique to them.

Take a look at the boxes in your life.  Can you recognize the uniqueness in each box?

There is a saying.  “Think outside the box.”

I think that is very true.  However, in this case, the contents of the box are what make it beautiful and unique.

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4 Responses to Let’s talk about boxes…

  1. PamT says:

    It is so easy to assume all kids are the same. I have six, including a set of (very different) twins. I’ve learned that what motivates one will not motivate another, and while one needs lots of personal attention, another might just want to be left alone. It is recognizing this that makes me a better parent. Not perfect, not superior, but what my kids need! Thanks!

  2. Carlyoung says:

    @PamT thank you for your comment.  I grew up in a household where one size fit all.  It wasn’t until I went to live with a favorite uncle that things got better.  In all fairness, my mom did the best that she could with what she had.  I applaud her for that.  I wasn’t the best child, and it took leaving home to see just how hard I was on her.  I still call her up and say… “you remember when I used to…  well, I am sorry.” We have a pretty good relationship now, she lives about four hours from me, and we have discovered together that distance is a good thing sometimes.  Even now, 25 years after leaving home, I just live to get a hug from her.