This story is inspired by Ezra Jack Keats‘ The Snowy Day.
Sam went with his parents for a day at the beach.
He wore his swimsuit and sandals and his nose was all white with sunscreen.
Sam danced in the sand.
Cha cha, cha cha.
Then he stomped in the sand.
Crunch crunch, crunch crunch.
He took a pail and filled it with sand.
Then flipped it over and made mound after mound.
Next Sam dug holes. He filled one with pebbles, one with seashells, and one he jumped in so he was buried up to his neck.
Sam climbed up the sand dune–running, then trudging, then crawling to the tippy top.
He raced back down and nearly somersaulted into the waves.
At the edge of the sea, where the water met the land, Sam made tracks to and fro, his toes wet with foam.
Then best of all, Sam got down on his knees. He built a sand castle with towers and walls, flags of gull feathers, and even a moat.
Sam was king of his castle. He looked out over the whole beach kingdom, dotted with umbrellas and chairs.
Sam felt proud.
When the sun beat down at the height of the day, Sam’s mother said, “It’s time to go. But don’t worry. We’ll be back tomorrow.”
Sam looked back from the parking lot, just to be sure his kingdom was still there.
That night, grains of sand fell out of his hair and his ears and his nose. He slept well, dreaming of his kingdom.
When he returned the next morning, Sam looked out at the beach.
But his castle was gone.
Sam was very sad.
Until a boy in polka-dot trunks called to him, “Won’t you help me build the biggest, bestest castle.”
Sam smiled. And they built a new, enormous sand castle, with even more towers and walls and flags. And an even bigger moat.
They ruled their kingdom together.
And couldn’t wait to do the same again tomorrow.
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