The Sandbox

We spend most of our days this summer at the park or in the back yard. Both boys love to be outside, which Travis and I hope to encourage. Noah just got a sandbox earlier this week (5x5 feet, made by papa Sam) and is in heaven. However, he noticed that with the appearance of the sandbox, all of his pacifiers disappeared. Strange how that happens. He still asks for them at nap time, but when we remind him that they're all gone he tells us that big boys can play in sandboxes, while babies who have pacifiers at nap time can't.

So, technically, Caleb is not allowed in the sandbox. And as it turns out, there was more wisdom in that rule than I knew when I tried to explain why the new sandbox meant no more pacifiers. Caleb loves to eat sand. He will sit innocently and play, patting the sand and rubbing his hands through it. Suddenly and without warning the takes a fistful and plunges it into his mouth. He is quick like a cobra and there is no predicting his behavior, so I try to keep him out of the sandbox.

The problem with this, naturally, is that there is no other place Caleb would like to be. As I carry him around the patio, he plunges toward the sandbox, trying to leap out of arms and into the sand. I'm not sure I can even put him down outside anymore. When I do, he waddles as fast as he can and climbs over the edge, screaming bloody murder if I try to pull him back or interest him in chasing down a ball. Only one other activity can distract him: pulling up the marigolds Noah and I planted next to the house.