Box of Sorrows

In order to combat my growing frustration with having to pick up discarded clothing, toys, and other preschooler debris all day long, I recently introduced my family to the Box of Sorrows. If someone, including my husband, leaves a personal belonging in a communal space, and I find it, it goes into the box. In order to get it out, you have to perform a chore of my choosing.

I was very excited about the B.O.S. Unfortunately, things have not worked out as planned. Lots of things have been placed in the box since its initial appearance a week ago, but to date, not one single thing has come out of it. Evidently, my children would rather live without their prized possessions (or in one child's case, all of his possessions) than scrub a toilet, vacuum a rug, or fold a load of laundry. Worse yet, the box has become a kind of catchall for undesirables including white socks, shoes, and reading workbooks.

Yesterday I caught one child gleefully throwing his church pants into the box.