I am an aficionado of the sandbox. Stockholm is a city of small parks, and, without even trying, I can think of 10 sandboxes where we have played regularly.
I was in four sandboxes yesterday.
I know which few sandboxes have shade, and at what time of day. I know what kind of trees shade those sandboxes. This is important because the sand in a shady sandbox is not as clean, though it will be cooler and filled with the damp sand that is necessary for a proper sand frog, sand cake or sand castle.
Not that it matters with a 16-month-old, for whom destruction of said sand creations is one of the great joys of life.
I know which sand boxes are frequented by daycare kids. With a bigger kid, I used to chase the “day moms” and their broods, desperate for someone for NK to play with. Now, with a smaller and more shy boy, I avoid them because the kids will just take the sand toys and Baby B will get quiet – though this is changing fast so maybe I need to shift once again.
I know which sandboxes come with toys and which are empty. Which have stones and which do not.
I thought for a while that I was pushing Baby B into the sandboxes because I like them so much. But no. He likes them more, pulling out the sand toys even in the middle of the mall, looking to dig in a planter.