As I sat in the recliner in my children's room, comforting my unhappy and needy son, I hummed a (hopefully) calming tune I made up in spite of its similarity to some classical music I have heard but cannot readily identify and watched my daughter perfect the little house she was building for her Strawberry Shortcake dolls out of blocks. (Her daddy had built most of the structure before he left for work and she was steadily improving upon it by stacking the blocks in different ways and groaning dramatically when they fell over.)
After a few minutes, Audrey held up a yellow block and said, "These are their boxes." (Obviously indicating that there was, in fact, more than one "box" that applied.)
"Really?" I said in between hums. "What do they use their boxes for?"
"To hold their money," she responded, simply.
"Yeah?" I said with a smile.
"Yes. The green ones have LOTS of money. The blue ones have a little bit of money and the red ones have LOTS and LOTS of money. The yellow ones don't have money. They're empty."
"What do they use the empty boxes for?"
"To hold their keys."
"What are the keys for?"
"They are car keys."
"Yeah? What cars do they have? How many are there?"
"They don't have any cars. We don't have any out right now," Audrey said, shrugging her shoulders and pointing over to the closet where the main portion of their toys wait for their turn in the toy cycle.
"Uhuh..." I mused. "So they have car keys for when they can find a car?"
"Yeah," Audrey said, as if it all made perfect sense to her. Which it probably did.
It's obvious to her that money and car keys are important enough to keep in boxes. What you did with them once they were there is really neither here nor there to her.
She's probably right.