Life is Like a Box of Sand

It was an exciting day for me today as a father.  I put together a sandbox for my son that he will undoubtedly spend a great deal of his youth being an explorer in.  In his first day in it, he found it hysterical to smash any castle that Dada built.  He also thinks its funny to watch the dogs dig like maniacs in search for some kind of rodent they feel must be in the sand.

There was no question whether or not we were going to get Dane a sandbox.  Our little California kid loves the beach.

The question was where we were going to get the sand from.  After the purchase of the sandbox, I just assumed that I would take a 4 mile stroll down to the beach and pick up some fresh, free sand.  There seems to be an unlimited supply of it along the Pacific. Well, JoAnne wanted nothing do to with that shananagins.  She said that any time you go in to state or federal park, you are to only leave your footprints and take nothing from the park with you.  She thought the beach would have the same rules.  After talking this through with JoAnne, I found myself at Home Depot today loading 1000 pounds of bagged sand which cost me around $100.  This is when I thought, “You know, life is like a box of sand.  You can build the sandbox, you can fill the box with sand,  but you can’t win an argument with your wife.”

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