The Sandbox

Before I was married, my wife bought sand. That’s right. She bought sand. It’s special sand, magical, some think. It is dust free and causes no allergies. And miraculously, it smells really good, but perfume is not added. I’m not kidding. Every time we’ve moved, we’ve needed to take that cursed box of sand with us, and it is HEAVY. Yesterday, my wife wanted to buy a container for the sand. So we bought a plastic storage container -- a sandbox.

This afternoon, our son Ethan went over to a neighbor’s house. This neighbor, Wesley, has a kiddie swimming pool filled with real sand, and water, and shovels and pails. Need I say he had fun?