Let’s be real

Tupperware is as much kitchen gadget as it is lifestyle. I mean, sure, it was originally designed as a container for storing food, but if you’ve ever lived in a neurodivergent house (or, honestly, a house in general), you know that Tupperware has been well, well beyond that a long time. Basically, it’s the Swiss Army knife of plastics.

1. The Obvious: Food Storage (and Possibly Mystery Leftovers)

Priorities are food, yes, yes. Tupperware ensures your pasta is saucy, your cereal crunchy, and your soup not dripping into the bottom of your backpack (ideally). But let’s not forget its proverbial secret superpower: churning out mystery meals. You know, the ones the tupperware in the fridge without a note that nobody remembers what’s in there or when it materialized. Is it chili? Pudding? Who’s to know. Neurodivergent hack: sticky note it with the date and name as if you have a personal library in your fridge.

2. Legos, Button, and Small Objects That Cause Toe Pain

Each autistic or ADHD house gets to that place where those teeny things have you rapidly losing your mind. Legos. Beads. Puzzle pieces. Screws from that half put together shelf from IKEA. Tupperware rides in as a rescuing hero: those leg-destroying Legos are in their place, labeled, and safely out of reach. And you have a visual, through those clear storage bins, so you don’t have to use mental energy looking for that “one piece that’s red and has a goofy hump.”

3. The Sensory Treasure Chest

Tupperware is not just for storage, it’s an object in itself. For autistic people, a bucket of rice, beads, or kinetic sand is a sensory bin. When you seal the lid, there’s no messy cleanup involved (no glitter explosion, either). You shake, drum, or rub your fingers through it when you’ve had a bad day. Basically, Tupperware is a stress-reliever, and it’s cheap compared to counseling.

4. The Travel Buddy

Park? Doctor’s? Road trip? The ultimate grab and go buddy is now Tupperware. Crayons, fidgets, treats, or headphones can stay in a tough tiny container that packs well in a bag. Bonus for neurodivergers: no crinkly, pucker-inducing treat pouch to make that nasty sound in a public place. You get a smooth, quiet lid closure. Heaven.

5. The “Junk Drawer but Portable”

Every home has that drawer. The one stuffed full of rubber bands, expired coupons, mystery keys, and three half-expired pens. That kind of chaos is quickly subdued by a piece of Tupperware. Consider it sorted garbage: “mystery keys,” “bizarre screws,” “do not recycle these dead batteries I swear.” It’s not any less insane, but it’s no longer loose crazy, which is a whole lot better.

6. The Ultimate Multitasker

Require a travel-sized dog bowl? Tupperware. Require starting a small herb garden? Tupperware. Require a temporary drum set for your child’s house concert? Flips that container over and drum out a tune. Seriously, if it exists, then there’s a pretty good chance that there’s a dual purpose for Tupperware.

Conclusion:

Tupperware is not only about storage of leftovers   it’s about survival, creativity, and keeping sane. For neurodiverger families, it’s an unsung hero, helping in sorting out sensory tools, differentiating collections of hyperfixation, and keeping everyday life a little bit more manageable.  So next time you are about to toss that container without a corresponding lid, think again. Take a deep breath. Because in a remote corner of your home, a pileup of Legos or a distressed cranium is in need of its next Tupperware miracle.