This year I decided not to cook Thanksgiving dinner.

 I just figured that since I cook dinner every day, how is cooking another meal special? Where's the fun in that for me?

 So one phone call later dinner was ordered.

Can I just say that I shockingly had no guilt about this. I am quite proud of this fact. I ordered everything from the cranberry sauce to the pie.

Aamzing.

We spent a lovely day enjoying each other's company and relaxing. Eric went to pick up this lovely meal and returned home with it in a box.

Now I saw a box and Eric saw a box, but Denver saw the greatest thing ever.

He quickly claimed this box for himself. He loaded his blankie and pillow into it and proceeded to spend the rest of the day watching TV in this box. He even wanted to sleep in it.

For two days, he snacked and napped in it.

At one point while attempting to send him to a time out instead of saying "go to your room" I almost said "go to your box."

Good grief.

I am starting to wonder if maybe for Christmas I should call the restaurant where we got our yummy dinner and ask for a new box since the other one is now sporting duct tape to keep it together.

I mean, if a box gets this kind of love from him, did I even need to buy him any gifts? Why is it exactly that I spent hours trying to hunt down the perfect gift?

All I need is a couple of boxes. I mean Jesus slept in a manger and if it was good enough for Jesus ... certainly a box is good enough for Denver.