Well, as promised, we went on a dumpster diving mission to find fodder for our little box building enthusiast.
I felt like a criminal, driving around the backs of strip malls. And I'm sure I looked like one too, casting furtive glances before a quick dash out of, and back into, the car. I felt like I should have worn a shirt that said "I don't usually do this sort of thing."
As a matter of fact I kind of think that my entire wardrobe should consist of shirts with disclaimers printed on them. "Sometimes I bathe." "Yes, they're all mine." "One day I'll match." "No, I'm NOT too old for a pony tail."
Anyhow, the box fort building was good. I passed out flashlights and rolls of duct tape to all six little sleepover dudes. They made themselves welcome to every butter knife and marker in the house. They had themselves a rip roarin' good time.
And the birthday boy? He could not be more happy.