The Castle

“Hi!” Sarah stood at the edge of the park’s sandbox and peered at the boy making a sandcastle. She noticed some pink flowers behind him and momentarily considered picking one or two. They matched her flip flops. But no, she wanted to play with the sandcastle more.

The boy didn’t seem to notice her. Sarah tried again. “Hellooo.” She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot dramatically, like Mom did when annoyed with Dad, or with Jimmy, their Labrador.

“Hi,” mumbled the boy, nervously.

Sarah evaluated his technique. The boy's castle was only two tiny lumps side by side. He must be in preschool, because everyone in kindergarten knew that sandcastles were at least two big lumps side by side.

“You should put more on top,” she declared. “I can help.”

The boy kept his eyes on the castle. He said nothing, but took his finger and began creating a moat. Boys are so stupid, Sarah thought. She climbed in the sandbox, picked up a handful of sand, and dumped it on top of the first mound. The boy quivered, and a tiny groan came out of his mouth.

Oh no, Sarah thought.

The groan turned into a wail, and Sarah sat, dumbfounded, empty hand still outstretched over the top of the castle. Idiot, she thought. It looks so much better.

Sarah’s mom hurriedly walked over, and a much rounder grownup lady scuttled close behind. “…not sure, but you know how kids are,” she heard her mother toss over her shoulder with a laugh. The other woman seemed not amused, and huffed her way over to the sandbox. Her pudgy arms reached into the fortress and plucked out the boy, tut tutting all the while. She set the boy on the ground and began brushing off his blue and white overalls.

“What happened, Sarah?” asked her mother.

“We were playing sandcastle, and I was helping,” Sarah announced matter-of-factly.

“Are you alright, Jimmy?” cooed the pudgy lady.

Jimmy? Sarah thought. He’s like my dog!

“You see, they were just playing sandcastle. No harm done,” her mother offered. “Sarah, remember to play nicely. Say sorry to Jimmy for making him cry.”

Jimmy is acting like a two-year-old, but he can’t help it. He’s just a puppy, Sarah decided. I'll be gentle. “Sorry Jimmy,” she sang, and presented him with a small grin, front left tooth missing. Impulsively, Sarah hopped up, dashed over to the pink flowers, picked the prettiest one she could find, and ran back with flower in outstretched hand. Horrified, Jimmy buried his face in his mother’s gaudy plaid skirt.

“Well,” sputtered Mrs. Pudge, taking the flower on Jimmy’s behalf, “that was very considerate. Jimmy, will you play nicely with…”

“Sarah,” her mother inserted.

“…Sarah?” Mrs. Pudge finished. “Look, she brought you this pretty flower.” Jimmy eyed the flower cautiously. There was a tiny ant crawling in the middle of it. He liked ants. His fortress could become Ant Castle if he put the flower in its middle.

He took the flower from Mrs. Pudge, crawled back into the sandbox, stuck his finger in the one undefiled lump and plopped the stem into the hole he created. Ant Castle! Maybe this Sarah wasn’t completely evil after all. Jimmy looked up at the three intimidating women with a shy smile.

“Pretty!” Sarah exclaimed. She ran over, picked another flower, ran back, and plunked it in the better sized lump. Flower Castle! Jimmy isn’t so dumb after all.

Sarah and Jimmy glanced at each other. Jimmy quickly looked down, restarted his moat, and then cautiously looked back at Sarah.

“I’ll help?” Sarah asked. Jimmy smiled and went back to work, with Sarah plunging in right beside him.

The ladies looked on approvingly. Sarah’s mom turned to Mrs. Pudge and exclaimed, “But my, where did you find that gorgeous skirt?” They wandered back to the nearby park bench, leaving the two architects to continue building the castle.