Skip to content

Sarah Simpson Column: Recycling means saving boxes for months first

The Bright Side
27936582_web1_220203-CCI-SarahColumn236-sarahcolumn_1
Boxes are best toys ever. (Sarah Simpson/Citizen)

Every other Wednesday I start the day by singing ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Day of the Month’ to the tune of that old-time Christmas song by Andy Williams and then go on to explain to my family that yes I know it happens two times a month but that makes it harder to sing…. my husband always thought I was referring to payday, which would make so much more sense in terms of reasons to be joyful, but that was only a coincidence.

You see, every other Wednesday is recycling day where I live, and the two overflowing blue bins in my garage get set out on the curb in the morning only to be retrieved later in the day empty and ready to be filled once more. It’s a glorious thing. It’s also moderately ridiculous how much I love having the stuffed bins emptied.

First, recycling is generally a good thing. But also, having empty bins gives me the illusion of more space in the garage which is pleasant, and also I just like getting things done. For me, empty bins signal a fresh start. It’s become almost as dopamine inducing as getting snail mail. (I don’t know why. I never said I was normal.) I think being able to check this small task off the list makes me feel productive and being productive gives me a bit of a boost.

Anyway, recycling is just a way of life for most of us now, and my children have grown up learning about which item goes in what bin and so on. It’s a good thing.

There’s just one problem with my family trying to do our part for the planet and it isn’t the maggots that sometimes appear in the organics bin (although that’s gross) and it isn’t about sorting our glass and plastic bags apart from the other bins. It’s about, and I can’t believe I’m about to type this, it’s about my children getting too attached to the boxes.

Any time a decent box enters my home, there seems to be an unwritten rule that it must be played with and then abandoned under the far end of the kitchen table for at least two months before I can sneak it into the recycling. The size of the box doesn’t matter. They’ve got just as big a thing with Pringles cans as they do with the giant appliance boxes. Pringles cans make great tunnels for Hot Wheels and also great stabilizers for train tracks and such and don’t get me started on the craft potential my daughter sees in these things. She hoards empty toilet paper rolls like people used to hoard toilet paper — or perhaps still do.

Intact, a giant box can be used as a fort, a vehicle, a prison, a cat house, a store, a target for Nerf toys, a shelter for stuffies. When broken down, big boxes make a slippery surface for ill-advised stair-slides, cut out armour and swords, and other various craft ventures that never seem to be completed.

While it drives me bonkers to not be able to get rid of them in a timely manner, it’s often worth it.

Once my son decided to make a full suit of armour and be a knight. He carefully selected a box for a helmet, a torso box, and two boxes for his legs. He got his new gear on in the garage and then quickly realized his oversight.

My poor diminutive son had selected leg boxes (long ones like those containing 12 cans of pop) that were much too long and while offering full-leg protection from any and all attacks, he wasn’t able to bend his knees. He hadn’t noticed much until he dropped his sword and was unable to bend over to pick it up. That cracked me right up. That, along with the video of him trying to get up the step from the garage into the house while restricted by his armour, is to this day one of the home videos that makes me laugh the most.

It took weeks and weeks for me to be able to recycle those boxes. I’m pretty sure if you looked behind my couch right now, there are still a sword and shield he’s made out of boxes too. Just in case, I guess. One day he’ll forget about them and I’ll sneak them in the bin.

My daughter, well she’s less forgetful.

I tried to get rid of a big box just before Christmas but she fished it back out of the recycling more than once. She couldn’t even tell me why she was so attached to it but I was not under any circumstances to get rid of it. She’d used a paper plate and some Sharpies to make it into a car she could sit in, but after that it just sat there. For months. Eventually I sneaked it away, but only because she’d found a new box to play with.

In a world filled with so many high tech, complex toys and games and any number of screens and diversions, though a hassle for my recycling routine, I sure do love that my kids still derive intense joy from playing with something so simple as a box and their imagination.



Sarah Simpson

About the Author: Sarah Simpson

I started my time with Black Press Media as an intern, before joining the Citizen in the summer of 2004.
Read more