There was once a little boy who was going to the beach. He lived far away from the beach and once he heard of the trip he was very excited. There was a new beach bucket at home. It had an unopened plastic mesh bag inside containing a shovel and a sifter. He was going to take that with him to the beach and there he would be allowed to open the mesh bag. He checked again and again to make sure the little bucket with its goodies was packed into his suitcase.
After a long train journey they made it to the beach. On the car ride to the beach he looked at the shovel and sifter inside. He loved the shovel so much. He was going to dig up the whole beach with it. He was willing to give the sifter to his brother but the shovel, the shovel was his.
The beach was big and sandy. The waves were strong and came rushing up, lapping at his little feet, making him run. Finally they found a spot to settle and once the beach towels were spread the mesh bag was opened. He held the little blue shovel in his hand. It was the best shovel ever. Off he ran to the water's edge to dig. The best shovel dug so well. It dug so deep. Then a big wave came rushing up.
Ashvin had had his shovel for less than a minute before it was gone. It was one of those moments where you are really sad for your child. His cry had such emotional pain in it. It was not one of a scrape on the knee, or one that an ice cream would fix. He was hurt. He could not believe the ocean did it to him. As a mom all I could do was look at the waves and hope the shovel would be washed back and hold him tight as he sobbed away.
I gave him a spoon and a cut up bottle to play with. He, resilient as all kids his age are, got busy with his new toys. Half an hour later the shovel did return back to the beach but the sorrow of losing it was way greater than the joy of getting it back. The shovel moment had passed and Ashvin forever hates that beach.