Nory has a water/sand table that we used for water play a while back, but it has since been sitting in the corner of her bathroom, collecting dust and taking up space. I mean, I suppose it served as a shelf for her plethora of bath toys, but it wasn't being used as intended and so we decided to re-implement the beauty back into our play rotation. It all started with a trip to the Avenues (sigh, The Avenues - where dreams come true!).
Here is a picture of Phil hauling three bags of sand through the mall, to the parking garage:
Two things are funny about this:
1) We didn't get a porter. Which threw every onlooker for a loop. But it's not like it was heavy and it's not like we had small children in tow ;)
2) Yes, we live in the desert. And yes, we VISA-ed our sand. If you lived here, you'd understand. (I think).
Anyways, embarrassments aside, the sand arrived home and our worst parenting decision ever was born. Ah-hem, the embarrassment continues....
Rather than keep the sand table in the bathroom (where we can easily clean up messes compliments of the bathroom hose and the drainage holes in the floor)........rather than put the sand in the hallway outside (which could also be easily swept up and maintained)........we decided to (GET THIS!) put the sand table by her arts and crafts station - INSIDE OUR HOUSE. Because, you know, we will just tell our two year old to keep the sand IN the sand table. Because if she can count to eleven and name off shapes and colours, then SURELY she will understand that sand stays with sand. IN THE TABLE.
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!
And I can't blame exhaustion. Or a lack of concentration. Or anything that would make me sound like less of a parenting amateur than I already am. This KEEP-THE-SANDBOX-INSIDE decision? It was ALL ME. All "fully awake, well thought out, made with zero pressure/bribery/game of truth or dare" ME. And even my husband was in agreement. There was no hesitation or concern from his end, which is completely bizarre because that man likes a clean house like nobody else I know.
Back to the title of this post.
There is sand EVERYWHERE IN OUR FLAT! Not only because every pour, every dig, and every big archeological find resulted in sand flying around the general vicinity of the table. But because Nory is Little Miss Sweaty McGee and, despite the sand-wiping-off technique we repeatedly modeled, sand sticks to her like glue and her hands served as sand delivery vehicles that whipped through our place in seconds. Which is why I found myself brushing sand out from under my covers at one in the morning last night. (Thank goodness our child - who LOVES TO SWEEP - is 100% anti-pile).
The moral of this story is: don't put a sand table in your house.
#parentingfail
Here is a picture of Phil hauling three bags of sand through the mall, to the parking garage:
Two things are funny about this:
1) We didn't get a porter. Which threw every onlooker for a loop. But it's not like it was heavy and it's not like we had small children in tow ;)
2) Yes, we live in the desert. And yes, we VISA-ed our sand. If you lived here, you'd understand. (I think).
Anyways, embarrassments aside, the sand arrived home and our worst parenting decision ever was born. Ah-hem, the embarrassment continues....
Rather than keep the sand table in the bathroom (where we can easily clean up messes compliments of the bathroom hose and the drainage holes in the floor)........rather than put the sand in the hallway outside (which could also be easily swept up and maintained)........we decided to (GET THIS!) put the sand table by her arts and crafts station - INSIDE OUR HOUSE. Because, you know, we will just tell our two year old to keep the sand IN the sand table. Because if she can count to eleven and name off shapes and colours, then SURELY she will understand that sand stays with sand. IN THE TABLE.
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!
And I can't blame exhaustion. Or a lack of concentration. Or anything that would make me sound like less of a parenting amateur than I already am. This KEEP-THE-SANDBOX-INSIDE decision? It was ALL ME. All "fully awake, well thought out, made with zero pressure/bribery/game of truth or dare" ME. And even my husband was in agreement. There was no hesitation or concern from his end, which is completely bizarre because that man likes a clean house like nobody else I know.
Back to the title of this post.
There is sand EVERYWHERE IN OUR FLAT! Not only because every pour, every dig, and every big archeological find resulted in sand flying around the general vicinity of the table. But because Nory is Little Miss Sweaty McGee and, despite the sand-wiping-off technique we repeatedly modeled, sand sticks to her like glue and her hands served as sand delivery vehicles that whipped through our place in seconds. Which is why I found myself brushing sand out from under my covers at one in the morning last night. (Thank goodness our child - who LOVES TO SWEEP - is 100% anti-pile).
The moral of this story is: don't put a sand table in your house.
#parentingfail
I say parenting success because you collected a great story to tell in the future! xo
ReplyDeleteAnd perhaps I will save some other people from a sandy bed in the middle of the night.....
DeleteXOXO
Your honesty (and sense of humour) is utterly refreshing! Your girls are lucky to have such a spirited mum!
ReplyDeleteMaybe one day someday we'll meet and I'll be able to tell you in person . . . !
Em's sarah
Thank you, SARAH! xoxo
Delete