Sand Angels

Here’s something I can’t stand: clutter on every flat surface. 

Here’s something I don’t mind: sand everywhere. We’ve been here what, three days? Sand in the car, sand in the tub, sand in my pockets, sand in the diaper bag, sand dusting the kids and me like sugared donuts. Inexplicably, this doesn’t bother me (as long as we wash our feet before bedtime). 

It doesn’t seem to faze the kids, either. “Look what I did, mom! It’s a sand angel!” said Isaac. Nearby, Eloise squatted in a sand hole, using a stick to throw sand over her head and bellowing out a tuneless song for the edification of all souls on the beach. 

Two little sand angels, and they’re mine!