When I go to a beach, I like to build sand castles. Probably because I'm still a kid at heart. So while the kids and I were at a beach, and they were playing in the water, I shoveled sand into pails and created an enormous pile of sand from which to carve a castle. I worked on this monstrosity for at least two hours. (And no, I don't have pictures. Sorry.)
When I was done, I admired my masterpiece. It had five turrets and an ascending and descending staircase.
"Mama," my son said. "That's really good!"
After my hard work, I decided it was time to grab some lunch. I headed to the picnic pavilion to get out of the sun. My kids joined me. While we were chowing down on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a group of five kids, armed with water guns launched an attack on my castle.
My son spotted them first. "Hey!" he shouted. "That's our castle! Leave it alone!"
Did they listen? No. They pelted my castle with more jet streams of water.
"Don't worry about it, Bubba," I said. "They're having fun."
He scowled and finished his sandwich.
When we were done, and the kids had finished their attack, we went over to assess the damage. The staircases were completely obliterated, three of the five turrets had crumbled, and the castle was about half of its size.
"Poor castle," said Bubba. "Guess you have to build another one!"