Purchased this story to facilitate my children's imagination and teach them it's okay to have one. Probably unnecessary, as the oldest, Graham, has no trouble imagining he is a dinosaur or other animal (he watches a lot of Wild Kratts and Dinosaur Train).
My imagination, though, is not always as welcome, as evidence of Graham's most common protests: "No, daddy, I am not a drum!" and "No, daddy, I am not a tasty food!"
Alas.
While I fully enjoy Graham's imagination, which I've seen at work many a time, this book took him somewhat by surprise. The premise, that a mere box could be so much more, seemed to stun him. I've seen him play with boxes before, so his perplexity surprised me in turn, and I wonder if he thought he was the only one in the world with an imagination, as if we're all dullards permanently fixed in reality.
I don't know if this book allowed him to take a step forward with his own imagination, perhaps transforming existing objects into much greater ones, or opened the possibility that other people might share in a vision he had considered exclusive to himself, but either way, I feel the book served a great purpose. As a writer who creates and visits worlds myself, that's very gratifying, and gives me hope that he might someday be willing to join me in them.