Sunday, September 02, 2007


Even though she's going on five years of age, one of Grace's favorite pastimes is the sandbox.

I've come to think of the sandbox as being a Zen thing for her. Zen in the box!

While in the sandbox Grace contemplates.
And Grace also takes time in the sandbox to check things out. Grace is big on small cuts and putting bandaids on them.
And after a fashion that crotch full of sand she's accumulated gets uncomfortable. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gott do.
While playing in the sandbox Thursday something happened. A huge turkey buzzard flew over Grace's sandbox and let one fly.

Grace: "Come quick, it's gross!"

Wife: "Okay, what's Papa doing now? PAPA! KNOCK IT OFF!"

Grace: No, no, it's not Papa. A big bird just pooped in my sandbox with me in it! Come quick!"

And there was a giant bird turd in Grace's sandbox. Grace's favorite sanctuary, her place of Zen, permanently desecrated.

As she gets older, I'll bet she'll have to go into therapy over being bombed by turkey buzzard poop.

I'm thinking that future play in the sandbox will be a heads up kind of deal for Grace.

As a young lad on the elementary school playground we'd sing-song this rhyme: Birdie, birdie in the sky, why did you poo poo in my eye? I'm a good boy, I don't cry but I'm sure glad cows don't fly!

Me: "Now Grace, it's okay. Just think, it could have been a cow flying over your sandbox instead of a turkey buzzard."

Grace: "Papaaaa!"

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evalinn said...

That girl is lucky it was no cow. I used to work in a dairy. I know all about cow poo poo...

Bob said...

Amen, Evalinn. Flying cows would definitely come under the class of weapons of mass destruction.

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Whiskeytown Lake, Very Northern California, United States