A recent Babycentre mail recommended giving Rahul a box to play with. Funnily enough, a couple of days before that, I had done exactly that. My new microwave oven -- I call it You Fabulous Machine You, affectionately shortened to YFMY -- came in a nice, big box that I wanted to turn into a play house for him. But the days blurred on and the box remained untouched so I eventually just gave it to him, suggesting he make a house out of it himself.
He loved it. Stored his favourite toys in it. When Li'lpet came to visit, he dragged her into it and shut the 'doors' so that she wouldn't leave at bedtime. And when I got home from work one day, he showed me who else had made it home... the Loch Ness monster, no less.
An inner view of the 'house':
Note the stool that he has more or less appropriated. Also the "Poocruck" (Pooh truck) on its side.
Last seen, the box had become Vicky's bullseye for practising with his new bow and arrows.I suppose it's true what they say about the Y chromosome gang never really growing up.