He had forgotten the hours he had spent pouring over the seed and plant catalogs. Nothing seemed to come to mind when he saw the box by the door. All he saw was his name on the label and the perpetual imaginings of what one could do with this box.

• It would make a great spaceship.
• I could make a periscope for the treehouse or to spy on my sister from our joint bathroom.
• I could decorate it so that it would hold all of the sticks I collect in the yard.
• I could make a nerf-ball game.
• I could make a tunnel for Oskar Katten. I could teach him to go through it.

So as he was thinking of his next creative moment , he trudged the box down to the basement where something wonderful was to be created from this new box. As he opened it he noticed that something was in it. "Oh, I'm really silly", he thought and laughed out loud. Of course the box was delivered because there is something in it.

"Mom, it's my tree. My Thomas Jefferson tree." He yelled while dragging said tree up the stairs.

While the box remained waiting to be re-created, the boy and his mom went to the orchard to ………

   ….. plant the tree.

And off the boy ran to his treehouse, forgetting about the box until the next time he remembered it.