Welcome! Today I’m sharing a transformational tool we’ve been using to teach our children responsibility, reduce their screen-time, and enjoy a tidier home, all with one humble cardboard box. If you’re a happy subscriber to the “Bless This Mess” movement, or proudly display a sign that says something to the tune of “Please excuse the mess, my children are making memories,” than this post may not be your cup of tea, which is more than ok. If you are like me, however, and can barely function when your home is strewn with toys and mismatched socks, or if you fancy that teaching kids to pick up after themselves may be of some value after all, then read on to meet my new best friend and perhaps soon-to-be yours as well: The Messy Box!
Mama and The Messy Box; the story of how we first met
I suspected there would be little black boots on the mat even before opening the front door. Laden with a bulky “mom backpack” I can’t ever seem to shed, piano satchel, and snack bag, I made my way slowly up the snow-dusted walkway to my parent’s front porch. Something like a caravan camel, I ascended, stomping my feet as I went and finally finagling the door open. THUD! Camel . . . and prophetess, apparently.
The door thunked against four little black boots, partially flocked, now strewn and dripping on the entryway tiles.
My jaw tightened on my teeth, not from the cold but from the if-I-had-a-nickel-looney-bin-itus so common to motherhood. Drawing a deep breath, I set the day’s pile of accessories down and removed my own snow boots. These, I faithfully deposited on the rubber mat in a superior sort of way, all the while shaking my head like a schizophrenic. “Now, why is that so hard?” I asked myself. Happy little voices juxtaposed my thoughts as they vied shrilly for grandparent attention in the kitchen. The heavenly smell of pancake batter and hot oil wafted around the corner to welcome me in from the first big snow of the year. But first things first.
“Kids!” I called in attempted (and failed) cheerfulness. “Come back to the front door, please.”
“Uh-oh,” I heard Grandma say in her “I’m-your-buddy-but-I-have-to-support-Mama” way.
“What, Mama?” they cooed as they thumped to meet me.
“Hmmm. What’s wrong here?” I asked looking up and down and all around the foyer, bordering on slap stick.
“Oh!” the Captain gulped guiltily. “We left our boots out again.”
Both kids scrambled to arrange their boots on the mats, then promptly ran down the stairs to play, all smiles and giggles and carefree whoops. I watched on, stuck to the front doormat like a scarecrow in a forgotten field. We’d been working on project Put-Your-Shoes-On-The-Rubber-Mat for probably a year at this point and I’d just about reached my patience limit. To be more honest, I’d passed it.
The week prior, at our own house, I had tripped over the Captain’s tennis shoes coming in the front door and promptly flung them out onto the lawn without a word. Growing up we called these sort of events “uh-oh, Mom’s losing it.” The Captain stared at me in shock for a moment before running to retrieve them and deposit them sheepishly on the rubber mat. It wasn’t my proudest moment as a mom, perhaps, but desperate times and all that jazz. I ‘d hoped it might leave an impression anyway.
Apparently, it didn’t.
There I stood in the foyer, once again brainstorming through a haze of mom exhaustion and overwhelm. It wasn’t even 8:15am and I felt like I needed a nap. “Time for tea,” I thought to myself, indulgently. Winnie the Pooh is my soul animal. I walked into the kitchen and saw my mom quietly celebrating her liberated reign as Grandma. She was chuckling mischievously as she poured bubbly batter into the hot pan. I slumped onto a kitchen stool and was transported instantly back to adolescence ‒coming home from school, shedding my backpack, crawling to the warm kitchen for nourishing food and conversation. Is there anything in the world as comforting as being with your mom while she makes you a hot meal? For me, it’s a place where time stands still.
“Need tea?” Mom teased. I sighed in dramatic gratitude just as if I really had reverted back to my teenage years. Abstractly, I wondered if there truly were children in the basement who belonged to me.
“How did you teach me to put my shoes away?” I asked in place of a good morning greeting.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mom answered carelessly. “Some of you did and some of you didn’t. It still drives me nuts. I’m still trying to get Dad to put his where they go.” She giggled with sudden inspiration. “Maybe we can teach them together!” Unfortunately, I hadn’t surfaced to levity yet.
“It’s not just shoes,” I continued. “They don’t seem to even notice mess of any kind. They just drop stuff and leave it where it lands. They’d walk around it all day if I didn’t nag them.”
“Mmm. Sounds like you need Wax Dolly’s Barrel!” Mom diagnosed simply as she flipped the first golden cake.
“Wax Dolly’s . . . what?” I asked.
“Did I never read you Wax Dolly’s Barrel?” Mom asked. “Oh, well, it’s kind of a terrible story really. But boy did it sure scare me straight when I was a little girl. I was terrified to leave my things laying around after that.”
To say I was intrigued would be downplaying things by a mile. After years of stooping to pick up the droppings of two adorable but decidedly messy little munchkins, “scaring straight” didn’t sound half bad. Again, desperate times and all that. . . but judge at will.
“You know,” Mom continued, “I bet I still have that somewhere. It was in an old Calvert reader of mine. I’ll see if I can find it for you.”
Find it she did, and she had not falsely advertised the “terrible” part in her description. Now, before I share the tale with you, dear reader, please know one little thing first. This reader was published in 1958. If you haven’t noticed, things are a wee different than they were sixty-five years ago. The concept is a bit harsh . . . too harsh even for me, if you can imagine that.
I do not advocate, however, in throwing out babies with bathwater, offenses with history, or dollies with barrels for that matter.
While this little tale from sixty-five years gone by whistles to the tune of “Mean Mommy,” it was indeed the source of inspiration for my creation of “The Messy Box” and the beginning to our family’s responsibility rehab. I thought about summarizing the traumatizing little tale for you, my friends, but I decided it wouldn’t have nearly the same impact as the unapologetically unedited original. They seldom do. Besides, I’m considering today’s typing effort of mine as a gift to the internet because, upon a hearty Google search, I discovered that “Wax Dolly’s Barrel” has been either forever forgotten or never discovered beyond its immediate audience! If merely as a little window into culture and history, Wax Dolly’s Barrel deserves its place in the clouds.
Wax Dolly’s Barrel– a forgotten tale from a 65-year-old school “reader”
Hallmark Cards Book, titled Little Bits of Wisdom, published 1967
I encourage you, dear friends, to brew yourself a cup of coffee or tea and indulge your dark side for a spell before we start packing it in . . . the box that is.
Introducing . . . The MESSY BOX
Now that you know the inspiration for “The Messy Box,” here’s how it works. The concept is wonderfully simple, and the method easily customized. And no. The items that go in the box are not damaged or destroyed as they are in Wax Dolly’s Barrel. Whew!
First, label a large cardboard box or tote “The Messy Box” or some other name that you like and will remember. Choose a home for the box, somewhere that is easily accessible but that you won’t mind it living more or less permanently. Then, gather your child(ren) and explain the rules of the box.
“The Messy Box” Rules:
- All belongings and playthings must be picked up before a designated time each day, such as naptime, dinnertime, bedtime, etc. In our family the rule is both before lessons as well as before bedtime.
- Any items found out of place after the above time(s) will be placed into “The Messy Box.”
- To redeem items back out of the box, children must do extra chores above and beyond their regular chores, one chore for each item or collection of items. For example, if our son leaves out his Lego’s, these can be earned back as a lot (otherwise I’d have a full-time housekeeper instead of a son . . . hmmm). A pair of socks or shoes can also be earned back as a unit. Use your own discretion on an item-by-item basis.
- The box must be empty before designated privileges such as playtime, screen-time, outings, games, etc. In our family, movies may not be watched if there are items fraternizing in “The Messy Box.” For our kids, this is plenty of motivation.
How “The Messy Box” year has transformed our home:
- Our two kids leave out FAR FEWER things than they did a year ago. Percentage-wise, I would estimate that Goldilocks (age 5) leaves out maybe 5-10% what she used to, and The Captain (age 8) leaves out maybe 25-30% the volume he did before. I could insert a gender stereotype here but I think it’s much more likely that this is merely a testament to starting habit training as young as possible. Regardless of any discrepancies on account of age or personality, we are wildly happy with these results and “The Messy Box” has gained permanent residence in the bathroom closet.
- Our home is much tidier than it ever was, and the extra chores have been a great perk to me!
- The kids understand now that they are also responsible for the care and keeping of our home.
- My hubby and I do not have to be “the bad guy” when it comes to messes, nor do we have to do any nagging. The consequence is the consequence. We don’t even have to say anything. The kids know if there are items in the box, then there will be no movie until it is emptied. Plus, for me, “The Messy Box” is very calming and grounding. When I find items strewn around, I’m not afflicted with indecision of how to handle the situation. I’m also not at as much risk of losing it and throwing shoes onto the lawn. Pick up items. Put in box. The process is in place and I’m just a cog in the wheel.
- Our kids have learned initiative. Often, I will find one of our kids doing a random, pre-approved chore. When I ask what they are doing, they will answer nonchalantly that they noticed an item in “The Messy Box.” Thankfully, our children excel in honesty (also something we have worked hard for in our home) and very regularly manage their own retrieval of items from “The Messy Box.” I don’t recommend this for the first few months at least, then it can be contingent on a child-by-child basis.
Spoonfuls of “Sugar” to Help the Medicine Go Down:
Chores may not be any of our favorite part of the day, but they don’t have to be an absolute drudgery. Here are a few ways to lovingly cheer up chore time:
- For our Listen While You Work Playlist, printable chore banner, inspiring “tidy book list,” and more ideas for cleaning with joy, refer to our previous post: ✨CLEAN SWEEP🧹; adventures in dusting, sweeping, vacuuming, and window-washing!
Trouble-Shooting “The Messy Box”:
- What to do when “The Messy Box” isn’t working: First, ascertain if you are following all the steps. Are you regularly collecting your child’s vagrant items and placing them into the box? Are you sticking to your guns that your child do a chore to redeem each item? Are you letting your child have too many chances? For “The Messy Box” to work, a firm hand is needed. If you’re doing your part consistently and the system still doesn’t seem to have an effect, you may need to take a look at what is at stake for the child. Is the revoked privilege enough motivation for your child to take on chores in order to get the items back?
- What to do when your child is upset about their things being placed in “The Messy Box”: Your child may become emotional over the box at first. There may even ‒gulp‒ be tears. Don’t lose your nerve, and don’t give in. This will be short-lived. Our kids were only upset about the box for the first week or so. Now, it is a completely normal part of the routine. If your child is upset about the box, explain why you’ve chosen to start this practice in your home. Explain why you believe learning to pick up after oneself is a valuable part of a child’s upbringing. Discuss the merit of a clean, tidy home. Also, it is important to keep our emotions out of the box. In other words, we need to gather the items and place them into the box without getting angry or upset ourselves. Let the box be the bad guy.
Who could have believed that a humble cardboard box would rank among the year’s best decisions for our family? It may sound silly, but tidying up together has dramatically improved the quality of life in our home. Ready to try it for yourself? I’d love to hear how it goes!
Merry Christmas, dear friends, and cheers to a happy (and tidier) new year!
Love, Candace Arden
