Sand

I HATE sand. With a passion. There is no word to describe how much I hate it. I hate how it sticks to skin and clothes and shoes and is so diffucult to wash out of hair, even short hair. I hate how it gets tracked into my house. I hate it so much that I don't usually let my kids play in it (we don't have a sandbox, but the neighbors do) unless its late in the day and they can head straight for the bath when they're finished. I have a rule that if the kids throw sand or purposely get it in their own hair or someone else's, they're done! Apparently Damon didn't realize this rule also applies to dogs. Here's what happened:

This morning Damon asked if he could play in the sand. I said maybe after lunch. After lunch he asks again and I give in, reminding him of the rules. A little while later Damon comes and tells me Ellie is in the sand (don't know how she got out, but probably through the front door) and could I please make her go back in the house. I went out to get the dog and as I called for her and she came towards me, I noticed she had a tan head. (Ellie is a very black lab.) As she got closer I realize the poor creature is covered with sand. I could see it falling off of her as she ran with little clouds of sand dust poofing around her. It was all over her muzzle, head, probably in her ears and I hope it didn't get in her eyes. I confronted Damon and he admitted to dumping sand on the dog.

Ellie can't come in the house until she has a bath. I tried to spray her off with the hose but it didn't do much good. So far, she's been content to stay in the backyard by herself, which surprises me because she doesn't like to be alone for very long. But I just don't have time to play doggie-spa right now. In fact, I only have time to type this post because I'm waiting for the paint to dry in Brittany's room.

Needless to say, Damon lost his sandbox priviledge...for the rest of the summer (thats not a joke). Don't tell me I'm mean, that kid is lucky I didn't call family services and put him up for adoption today.