Confessions of a Bad Dad - The Box

Forgive me Blogger, for I have sinned. It's been five days since my last confession.

Now don't get me wrong, I love baby. He's awesome. From the moment we found out that wife was pregnant, I was convinced that we'd have a boy, and we did, and I couldn't be happier. But sometimes... Sometimes, I just need to get away from him, just for a little while, for the sake of my sanity and his safety.

So I need a place to put him where he'll be happy and where he can't get into trouble, hurt himself, or destroy anything. I've used the crib before, but he doesn't stay happy there for very long. So then I tried the jumper we have:

 

He'll jump in that for a while and then half the time he'll start screaming, half the time he'll fall asleep. Those odds aren't a problem when I just need to set him down for a few minutes, but when nature calls (and I mean really calls), I need a place I can put him where I know he'll be happy for at least 15-20 minutes. I also used to use the Bumbo, but we all know that the Bumbo is no longer an option (especially after he squirmed out of it yesterday and spilled a pitcher of sticky Great Value no-sugar fruit punch all over the table, chairs, floor, and garbage can).

Well I found a new place yesterday:
It's awesome. I can put the empty box anywhere, and set him in it with a few toys, and he's happy forever. And I don't have to worry about him getting into trouble... because he's in a box. What can possibly go wrong with a baby in a box? I mean some people live in boxes, right?

Besides, I read all of the warning labels on the box and not a single one mentions anything about putting a child in the empty box.