If I told you how many plastic storage boxes I currently own or have owned in the past you would judge me as an exaggerator of the worst sort. So, I won't be telling you. Just imagine a rather large number, go with it and you will be fairly accurate.
I don't know about you, but I have a rather low threshold for boredom. Simply, I get bored looking at the same silly inanimate objects sitting there, staring. When I can't take staring back at them any longer, I grab them, wrap them and zap them into the old plastic container. Some of these priceless objects (feel free to insert sarcasm) never see the light of day again and go straight from storage to the Goodwill. Some will be permitted back into the fold at some future time and place. My plastic rainbow (isn't colored plastic simply dreamy?) collection contains everything from holiday decorations, antique dishes, Brandon's toy collection (he refuses to take them to his place) to outright junk that I cling to like some sort of hoarder. I am not a hoarder, just a sentimental slob who keeps select items of, well, sentiment.
Now, about these bins.
Kids, I realize I can be utterly clueless (I know you are nodding in agreement) occasionally, but just yesterday I realized I have completely missed the boat, storage-bin-wise.
Yep, while wrapping up decorative glassware I glimpsed a sticker, prominently placed inside the lid. If there on previously purchased bins, I had failed to notice.
But, there it was. Right before my eyes, a red circle and line across the image of a child. Everyone knows that is the universal symbol of the big-DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.
Evidently, some people have not only been thinking about it, but using these things for storing their kids. I never knew I should have put young B inside one, stored him, taken him out for a little play time and food, popped him back inside and gone on my merry way without a care for his welfare.
Man, could I have saved a ton of worry about after-school care. Plus, no need for a sitter when you, and that special someone you force to go out with you to pick up the tab, leave the house.
Heck, I would even have tossed in a flashlight, comic book and a tin of Pringles because I am nothing if not a giver.
Here I sit, all these years later and admit all I ever stored (kid-related) inside those zany things were B's baby clothes, his books, CareBears, Teenage Ninja Turtles and all that-what was it called...Skeletor and his gang. Stuff such as that, you know? Silly me.
But, let's get serious here. Our common sense has diminished to the point where, without being warned by a sticker, we would think it logical to put a child inside a plastic container and close it? We, as adults, can not figure this out without a sticker?
Would someone actually think it okay to put a living thing inside something like this?
Please.
Where does this warning sticker insanity end? I suppose when humankind quits behaving in an insane manner.
However, even my dog threw shade and the evil-eye at this particular absurdity.
Well, either that or maybe she saw me looking closely at that blue box and started to worry. I mean, that warning sticker said nothing about storing dogs.
See ya 'round the beaches, kids!
No comments:
Post a Comment