During our recent visit to the South Shore, the children spent the afternoon on the beach looking for sand dollars. Siena got into a bit of a contest with each vying to find the most sand dollars but the contest quickly became irrelevant as the waves kept washing up and uncovering hundreds of sand dollars of varying sizes.
Siena wanted to take them all home with her but my cautionary tales made her rethink. I have not had very good luck with sand dollars. When I was younger, a friend of the family gave me a sand dollar. I brought it home (we were still living in Nova Scotia at the time) and stored it in my little drawer next to my bed. Well, it didn’t take long for my mom to wonder at the awkward and arresting odor that would present itself as she walked into my room. Of course, the sand dollar had spent the last couple of days rotting in my drawer.
Not to be deterred (and evidently slow to learn from the previous experience, several years later, on a trip back from Hawaii, I tried to bring a sand dollar back with me in my suitcase. I’m pretty sure that I probably shouldn’t have done that (transporting things like that is probably not allowed). As punishment for taking it from its home, the sand dollar promptly died in my suitcase, informing me of its demise by soaking the clothing in my suitcase with its stench, including some expensive new shirts I had purchased in Hawaii. I had to throw the shirts out.
So, when faced with more sand dollars being held in two grubby hands, I had to sadly inform them that we could not bring them home with us.