On a hard morning, Andrea Fullmer reaches for the Play-Doh. Within minutes, her toddlers are squishing, rolling, and pressing tiny trinkets into brightly colored dough. The mood shifts. What could have unraveled into chaos becomes calm focus instead. For Fullmer, a former pre-K teacher turned small-business owner, that transformation is no surprise. She’s spent years watching sensory play work its quiet magic.
Fullmer is the founder of A Box of Preschool, a St. Louis area-based sensory play kit business rooted in her classroom experience and her life as a mom of three.
After years of creating hands-on activities for her own students and children, she began assembling themed kits for families navigating at-home learning in 2020. That season of life was also marked by profound loss: After the death of her newborn daughter, Fullmer threw herself into creating as a way to stay busy and channel her grief. What began as a small holiday offering shared on Instagram gradually grew into something more.
Today, A Box of Preschool features a colorful lineup of holiday and kid-favorite themes—complete with glittery dough, 3D-printed cookie cutters, and custom name rollers designed to build early literacy skills.
Now based in the St. Louis metro area, after years of moving as a military spouse, Fullmer is using her business not only to support early childhood development, but also to carve out her own place in the local parenting community.
More Than a Mess
As a longtime teacher of pre-K students, Fullmer recognized the power of hands-on learning. In her classrooms, sensory bins and Play-Doh weren’t filler activities—they were foundational. “I think sometimes parents just see the mess,” Fullmer says. “But they don’t always see everything kids are actively learning from it.”
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That learning starts small. The simple act of pushing and rolling dough strengthens tiny muscles in a child’s hands, building the fine motor skills needed to eventually hold a pencil and write. Scooping rice from one container to another reinforces coordination and focus. Hiding miniature figurines in dough sparks language development as parents narrate colors, shapes, and positions: Can you put it behind the tree? Can you roll it into a ball?
“It’s such a calming activity,” she says. “If we’ve had a really hard morning, I’ll pull it out. It gets them sitting in one place and focused on something. The squishing is therapeutic.”
Play With Purpose
That dual benefit, both developmental and emotional, is central to A Box of Preschool’s appeal. Each kit is designed around bright, engaging themes that feel special without requiring parents to source or store dozens of tiny supplies. There are holiday collections, ocean and mermaid sets, camping kits, and more, each packed with colorful dough, carefully chosen trinkets, and tools made on the family’s 3D printer.
To Fullmer, accessibility is just as important as aesthetics. “A lot of times, parents think, Oh, I could make that,” she says. “But then you end up buying 30 of something when you only need two.” Her kits eliminate that overwhelming feeling—no bulk bins of leftover beads, no last-minute craft store runs.
And for families who want to keep it even simpler, she’s quick to offer reassurance: sensory play doesn’t have to be Pinterest-perfect. “Dump a box of Cheerios into a bin with some measuring cups,” she suggests. “Or rice and spoons. Kids don’t care if it’s elaborate. They just want to scoop and pour.”
When the Fullmer family moved to the St. Louis metro area in 2024, Andrea was essentially relaunching her business from scratch. In previous duty stations, word-of-mouth and familiar faces had helped A Box of Preschool grow. In a new city, she had to introduce herself and her glitter-filled bins all over again. “It was definitely a building year,” she says.
She began signing up for local vendor events and pop-ups, connecting with other small-business owners and striking up conversations on Instagram—something that doesn’t always come naturally to her. “I’m generally pretty shy,” Fullmer admits with a laugh. “But if I don’t put myself out there, I won’t meet anybody.”
That lesson, she says, is one that military life has taught her again and again. Frequent moves mean starting over: new schools, new neighborhoods, new friendships. Without the built-in community of a classroom, she’s had to be intentional about finding connection. Her business has become both an outlet and an entry point.
“If I didn’t have this, I probably wouldn’t have met a lot of the people I’ve met here,” she says. “It’s hard to just meet people without a reason to go somewhere. This gives me that reason.”
Building Community
Collaborations with other local makers and kid-focused businesses have helped root her business in the community while also introducing more families to sensory play. Each event is part market, part meet-up—toddlers drawn to bright dough and tiny treasures, parents lingering to talk about nap schedules, preschool options or the best parks nearby.
At home, though, the heart of the business remains the same. Her children are her unofficial product testers and the first to press new cookie cutters into fresh dough or to try a custom name roller. Around the table, covered in bits of glitter and flour, the lines between work and family blur.
For Fullmer, that’s the point. “In the end, it’s really about connection,” she says. “Yes, they’re building skills. Yes, it’s educational. But it’s also about sitting down together. Talking. Slowing down. If I can help give families an easy way to do that—even on a hard day—that’s what matters most.”
