One of the most valuable assets in my Mommy-of-a-Preschooler arsenal was the "Magic Box". The box was inspired by my own childhood. I was one of nine children. My mother worked full time, and her Saturdays were spent cleaning our home and doing the weekly shopping and baking. On those awful Saturdays when the rain or snow kept us from playing outside, my mother would seat us at a little table, and bring out her button basket. The basket originally belonged to my grandmother, and so, I imagine my mother feeling the same anticipation on a rainy Saturday morning. This basket was a marvelous thing! First of all, it was kept, hidden away, in the top of my mother's closet. Not even my mother could reach it without standing on a chair! Adding to the general air of mystery surrounding it, this basket had a lid, which was unusual for a basket of my experience. And oh, the treasures inside! Being a frugal woman of the Edwardian age, my grandmother had snipped the buttons off of every worn out gown, child's costume, shirt and uniform. My mother had done the same, saving all the buttons from every workshirt and dress. Some of the buttons had a history. The buttons from Great Uncle Morgan's policeman's uniform; the coat buttons from Grandmother's best coat; tiny buttons from a turn-of-the-century baby's christening gown. There were hundreds of buttons. All different shapes and sizes and colors, some like little jewels, others of exotic materials unknown to me. I spent many hours sorting those buttons and lining them up in colorful mosaic pictures, while my mother kneaded dough at the kitchen counter.

I was a working mother. My daughter spent her weekdays in daycare, and so, my Saturdays with her were very precious. On those rainy days when we couldn't take our usual walks or play at the park, I had to find an activity that would be just as precious in her memory as my mother's button basket was for me. My "Magic Box" wasn't anything spectacular to look at. It was an old cardboard box from a kitchen cannister set that had been printed to look like the bag of a popular brand of flour. Inside, I put things that every child finds magical: popsicle sticks, pipe cleaners, toothpicks, glitter, artificial flowers, ribbons, lace, buttons, plastic jewels, twine, round nosed scissors, a large bottle of tacky glue, stickers, poster paint and brushes, construction paper, feathers, beads and tissue paper. I found a flat box that fit inside, and I made that our "Let's Pretend" box. In this box, I placed tiaras, some leftover lotions and makeup, a small feather boa, big costume jewelry, especially some large clip on earrings. Most importantly, folded neatly, across the top, I put a "transmogrification cape" that turns ordinary 4 year olds into SuperKid!

If, today, you ask my 22 year old daughter what a "Magic Box" is, she will smile and tell you that it makes enough toothpick and glitter snowflakes to decorate an entire Christmas tree. She'll also tell you that, on a Saturday afternoon, when the thunder is booming, and lightning flashing, it might contain a fairy castle, built of popsicle sticks and feathers, or an entire menagerie of pipe cleaner animals. Now that she has a daughter of her own, she has begun to build her own "Magic Box". It will be different from the button basket of my youth, or the box from hers, but the one ingredient that it will have in common with both of them is the wonder of childhood. If that's not magic, I don't know what is.