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October 24th, half term is approaching. As I was dropping the kids off at school at the penultimate hour before another vacation (I believe summer vacation was only two weeks ago), my daughter innocently asked me when I was going to go to school. Their boo basket. As I read through the never-ending list of parental responsibilities and upcoming plans, I wondered what a boo basket was in all this nonsense of Halloween overconsumption, and had we ever talked about this before? I went around.
As I said goodbye to them at the school gate, I began frantically looking through images from last year’s Halloween to see if there was a boo basket I’d started a year ago and forgotten about, as well as all the scary elves on the shelves. I checked (my worst parenting mistake today) the Easter Bunny, but found nothing.
Don’t get me wrong, I might be the type of mom who complains about things like this, but I’m not sure if I’m the type of mom who complains about things like this, but I also love making haunted house trick-or-treat treasure hunts, painting my Halloween nails, and taking my kids to the pumpkin patch. She is also the mother who drags her children into her home. They wore matching outfits because “you’re only young once” and “magic doesn’t last forever.” But the boo basket (or boo box as some people call it) was still new to me. So why am I thinking of making one now?
What is Boo Basket?
A quick Google search shows that my daughter is not independent. Searches for boobaskets (or booboxes) have tripled in the last year, turning a small niche trend into the mainstream. Before you start blaming social media (although I should add videos like this one from @astoldomichelle, which has over 5 million views, which should bear some responsibility), where is the boo basket? It seems that there is also. From iconic department store Fortnum & Mason’s Wicker Wicked Hamper (£75) to Lush’s Countdown to Halloween (£50), it looks like there’s a boo basket here with an advent calendar take on it.
Now, before you shout “the cost of a life crisis” at me, you and I both have the luxury of sitting under the bed and splashing around on themed boxes (100 for those unfamiliar with Cockney colloquialism). I hear you don’t have pounds). Honestly, it’s just a few biscuits and a few bath bombs. But I’m pretty good at polishing poop, and I can spend £10 per child to make it look like I spent months on Pinterest creating an Insta-worthy moment.
So if you’re lost in the nonsense like I was, read our Bargain Sale article and create your own boo basket.
Warning: We do not recommend starting this tradition too early. You’ll be tied down for years to come, and your 9-month-old won’t remember.
