The Little Viking Saga – Endless sand – Episode 9

When we initially decided to move to Denmark I immersed myself in as many books as possible about the Danish way of life and the country’s unique approach to parenting. I was eager to read other people’s stories and to learn from their experiences. General consensus was that it’s dark in the winter, it rains a lot, summer is fleeting, but good bread, cheese, and pastries will get you through it all. Oh, and lots of candles and warm designer lighting (because, hygge!). There was also mention of the access to many wonderful (sometimes staffed) playgrounds within Copenhagen, and the general child friendliness of the country. Coupled with a huge focus on the priority of play for young children.

But there’s one massive thing that was completely omitted in this deep dive – no one warned me about the tiny grains of sand that would slowly, but surely, infiltrate our home. It starts with the seemingly innocent time a child spends in the sandbox at vuggestue or børnehave. This you see, is where the sand begins its initial invasion, into the seams of clothing, the knit of gloves, and the insoles of shoes. At first you think it’s all fine, just a gentle shaking out of everything will solve the problem. But that’s just an illusion.

This gentle shaking out is then followed by hours upon hours of more sand play. Add a bit of rain and it glues itself to every surface that no gentle or rigorous shake will ever dislodge (until you bring it into your home, then it dries and sheds like a stressed-out longhaired cat). Followed by more “baking” of sand cakes, building of sand castles, and just generally getting lost in the world of sand. One day you arrive to pick up your child and you find them buried in the sandbox as if they’re enjoying a day at the beach. True story, all of it. So. Much. Sand.

At this point you find yourself pondering how quickly the sand disappears from the sandbox (have you checked the children?!), and you start to feel like your home is turning into a sandpit from the influx of sand coated clothing, shoes, and bags. But you remain oddly hopeful with a little vacuuming, or a quick tidying with a broom and dust pan. All is not lost, you can win this battle of the sand if you just remain vigilant. Perhaps you even add an extra mat at the door in an attempt to “catch the sand”. It’s all for naught. In the spring the child care institution welcomes a new delivery of sand to top up their rapidly depleting sandbox. Resistance is futile.

Then autumn hits and there are more layers of clothing which means more sand. One day you go to dump the sand out of your child’s shoes and it’s like a comedic skit where the more you tip the shoes, the more intense the waterfall of sand gets, with absolutely no end in sight. Logically you think to yourself, “ah, I’ll just take the insoles out”, but then you tip the shoes again and the sand just…doesn’t…stop.

In your sand encrusted state, you eventually admit defeat and decide that you’ve given it your all and perhaps there are bigger (less sandy) battles to fight. Such as the impending re-introduction of the flyverdragt (a warm and waterproof full-body jumpsuit that all Danish kids wear throughout the winter months). Thus, unfortunately, increasing the layers of sand containment with the added delight of a disgruntled 3-year-old who refuses to get dressed.

At this point you may be wondering if I would trade this exfoliating experience for a clean home and less gritty existence? Absolutely not. With each sandy encounter I’m reminded of the amazing childhood my son is experiencing here in Denmark. He spends his days out in the forest (and of course in the sandbox), exploring his world through play, where he learns how to engage with others, how to problem solve, create, communicate and regulate, with the added bonus of building his immune system. I may just invest in an indoor beach lounger to fully embrace this sandy existence. If you can’t beat them, join them.