Sandbox

The kids were outside today while I was making dinner when Sam called, "mom, I think someone or something pooped in my sandbox."
"Okay, was it you or Vivian?" I asked through the window trying to quickly narrow it down.
Silence while Sam examined the evidence and thought about this, "no.  It wasn't me and Vivian still has  her shorts and diaper on.  It must have been an animal.  It's very little."
"Did you touch it?" I asked.
"No, I smelled it and now I see it.  Can you change the sand in the sandbox?"
"Not right now, we'll talk to Daddy when he gets home.  Scoop it in the bushes with a shovel and come up and wash your hands."
I heard the sound of the sand hitting the bushes and shortly afterwards Sam appeared in the kitchen."Go and scrub your hands," I instructed him and then realized there was no little patter of feet behind him.
"Sam, where is Vivian?" I asked.
"Oh, she's outside still," he told me, as he headed for the bathroom.
"What's she doing?" I asked.
"Eating sand."

A headless shot that Sam took last summer of Vivian and I.  The sandbox is behind us with
the brown cover that can be lowered or raised, for exactly this reason,
but the cord on it is now broken, so it
often remains open.