Sandy

Since it was raining (hurrah!) this morning, William met up with his buddy Leland at the Monkey's Treehouse. Leland immediately plunged right into the big sandbox right in the middle of the room. William, however, was not so convinced that he wanted to play in the sand.

At first, he was ready to charge right in there, too. Then he actually felt the sand on the bottom of his toes, and he hesitated.

"Uh oh," I whispered to Mary Clare and Chris. "David was afraid of the sand when he was William's age. He didn't like the way it felt on his feet. I wonder if that's a Wyckoff trait that's been passed down."

We all cheered William on, but it didn't work. He ran off.

But he came back a little later, ready to be challenged. I unbuckled his sandals and he determinedly walked back up to the edge of the sandbox. He finally took a few tentative steps, and moments later, it was if he'd been playing barefoot in sand his whole life.

I thought that was a good thing. Until he flung a big cupful of sand over the top of his head. We brushed and wiped and brushed, but his scalp remained stubbornly coated in a fine layer of sand. When we were outside and a beam of sunlight shone on William, you could see a layer of dusty gold sand, shining through his hair.

Four shampoos. That's how many it took to get the sand out of his hair tonight. At least, we think the sand is out of his hair now...