Ever since we moved in here, I have wanted to get a little sandbox for Max to use on our patio. He is just the right age for it, and I have really fond memories of playing in the sandbox with my sister when we were little. I looked around for a sandbox to use, but they were all too big, too round, too covered in cartoons, etc. When you can't find something of this nature, the only thing to do is to put my dad on the job, and so that is exactly what I did. Accordingly, he hand-built a little sandbox for Max that fits perfectly into one corner of our patio. Max was napping today when my dad got it all set up. When he woke up, I took him out on the patio and let him discover the new arrival.
Max's new climbing obsession allowed for no hesitation, and he clambered right into the box. Once inside, he was apparently startled by the texture of the sand on his diaper-clad hindquarters.
The cool gritty sand punched a temporary hole in Max's devil-may-care philosophy, and he appealed to a higher power (me) for rescue.
Before anyone swooped in to save him, however, Max discovered that you can pick up sand and sift it through your fingers.
And Max and the sandbox lived happily ever after from that moment on.
I could make any number of jokes here about eating your heart out, and I expect many hearty thanks for not making any of them.
After drooling on every available surface of an object, Max likes to examine his work. This allows him to find any spots he may have missed, and further allows him to transfer some of the sandy drool from the toy onto his hands.
Then, when the object is as drool-covered, sandy, and generally untouchable as it can possibly be, he likes to offer it to a friend. His generosity knows no bounds.