Spring Break, Moving Boxes, and Two Teenage Union Workers on Strike

Praise the Lord and all the shepherds, we made it to Friday of spring break. Can I get a witness, a coffee refill, and maybe a silent retreat that lasts about three hours?

Today’s adventure was brought to you by cardboard boxes, bubble wrap, and two teenage boys who may not use words, but who absolutely know how to stage a full-blown protest without saying a single syllable. Silent, organized, and wildly effective. You have to respect the strategy.

We’re moving at the end of the month. New place. New routine. New everything.

While my boys can’t sit me down and say, “Mom, this feels scary,” they have found a very creative way to express their feelings.

Let me paint the picture: I carefully filled a box, tucked things in just right, and walked out of the room to grab a few more items. I came back to an empty box, completely empty, not rummaged through, or half-disturbed; it was completely EMPTY, like Chick-fil-A on Sunday. 

Every single item I had packed was placed right back where it originally lived, like two teenage museum curators restoring an exhibit titled: “Absolutely Not Moving Mom”

So naturally, I filled the box again, because I am persistent, slightly delusional, and apparently very entertaining to watch.

Friends, I realized I’m not packing. I’m negotiating with a very determined moving committee that did not approve this relocation, and they are prepared to unionize if necessary.

They were not being defiant. They were not being difficult. They were communicating in the only language they have-Action.

Routine matters to them. Familiar spaces matter to them. Knowing where the beanbag sits, where the snacks live, where the world feeling predictable matters more than move-in dates and color-coded packing labels.

Today, their message was loud and clear: “Mom, we liked it the way it was.”

Every special needs parent understands this deep in their bones: Change is really hard when you can’t explain it. Change is even harder when you can’t express it, but you feel it in every corner of your world.

So today, I packed the same box twice. Then I decided to make a game out of it for them. I put their timer out and had them help me pack the box like a modified game of Perfection. It worked!! Well, it worked for exactly one box. Because popping the roll of bubble wrap quickly became the main event, the halftime show, and the after-party. The packing portion was canceled due to lack of interest, and that was totally fine with me.

Our kids don’t always use words, but they always have a voice. Their behavior is their communication, and it’s our job understand it.

You are not failing when things take longer. You are parenting children who experience the world differently, and if you filled the same box twice today, you are not behind. You’re listening.

So here we are on the last Friday of spring break. Still standing. Still packing. Still loving these kids through every transition, every meltdown, and every cardboard box rebellion. In this house, we measure success a little differently.

I made it to Friday of spring break, and all I got was an empty box, popped bubble wrap, and two incredible boys reminding me that home is not a place…

It’s the two extraordinary teenagers who keep unpacking your boxes because they’re not ready to move.