"Hmm," Gillian murmured, tilting her head back against the sun and closing her eyes. "Such a beautiful day."

"Yeah," Cal agreed, tilting his head to the side to watch her. She was stretched out on a sun lounger, in a bikini, her tanned skin glistening with sun-block and sweat. Cal was hiding from the sun in the shade of the house. She looked gorgeous.

"I can feel you staring," Gillian spoke again, with her eyes still shut.

Cal smiled to himself and tried to focus on his book again. She had sunglasses on. How did she even know? A bee buzzed close to Cal's ear and he waved a hand absently to bat it away again, encouraging it to move on. In the corner of the garden Lewis and Owen were playing in their sand-pit. Practically eight-year-old Lewis had taken the hose over to make the sand wet so he could pack it into various containers for different shapes and sizes. It looked like a small city over there. Three-year-old Owen was crouched down following instructions given by his big brother, when he was actually given some; most of what Cal heard Lewis saying was 'no don't touch that!'

Gillian suddenly sat up. "Where are you goin'?" Cal inquired lightly, aware he was sounding a bit like an over protective husband; a freaking stalker.

"Bathroom," Gillian responded.

Cal felt a little silly. Surely she could go pee without Cal having to know where she was for two minutes? Her fault for being so addictive. He put his book down too and got up to stretch his legs a bit. He seriously needed to get a grip. It wasn't good for him to be following her around like a love sick puppy.

"No!" Lewis cried and Cal turned his head to see the eight-year-old raise his hand to strike. Cal opened his mouth to yell but Lewis lowered it and instead shoved at a heap of sand in frustration. Owen babbled something in response that Cal didn't quite hear, even as he approached, but Lewis looked up at his younger brother and glared.

The sandpit was in the shade of a tall gum in the corner and Cal felt relief as he headed into its shadows, even from the short walk across the grass; the sun was intense. How Gillian could stand the heat, Cal didn't know. The boys had on shirts, shorts and sunscreen but were barefoot. They were supposed to be wearing hats too but Owen didn't like wearing one and seeing as they were in the shade it didn't matter too much. Owen's blonde hair was bright, like it had been sun-bleached. Lewis's was a light brown, like his mother's. The sun made both of their freckles come out.

"Hi Dad," Owen stood to greet him. He had sand around his mouth, like he had been eating it. Cal hoped not. Who knew which neighbourhood animal also tried to use the sand box as a convenient toilet? "Look what we made."

Lewis sat back, a grumpy expression on his face.

"It's fantastic," Cal responded observing what was in front of him. It was like a city. There were various tall structures, that Lewis had used a broad square plastic container to stack two sand castles on top of each other. He had the rounded shapes made by a bucket and a road between them and a few more smaller structures made from yoghurt pottles and an assortment of mounds with sticks in them that must be Owen creations.

"That's house," Owen pointed, proud, even as his brother sulked. "That's a fiss."

'Office,' Cal figured. He sat at the edge of the raised box.

"Like your fiss Dad."

"It's really great Owen," Cal enthused some more. "What's this here?" He pointed to the half formed mound Lewis was taking his time working through his frustration over. "Lewis?"

"Nothing," he grumbled.

"It's bidge," Owen answered. "But it fells down."

"It keeps collapsing," Lewis mumbled. He signed a vicious 'destroy', which he had learnt when Owen was at the age of destruction. But to his credit, and this made Cal quite proud, he hadn't hit, lashed out, or totalled the entire complex in a tantrum.

"Tell me what's happenin'," Cal leaned down on his hand to see better and Owen approached to sit in his lap. The boy was sticky with sweat and sun-block but his skin was cool to the touch.

"I build it like this," Lewis leaned forward again and carefully carved away the wet sand. "But it falls in." He worked one side and then the other. Owen offered his father a stick which Cal accepted and then as soon as he had and didn't use it, Owen took it back to poke into the sand. "But it gets really narrow here," Lewis showed his father where the bridge over the tunnel he had dug crumbled away at the edges. He threw out a quick 'little' sign and kept working and eventually the structure collapsed and Lewis huffed, bringing up accusing blue eyes to his father.

"Right," Cal quickly interjected. "Wet sand is a good first step," he started with praise and sure enough, Lewis gave a small pleased smile. "What it needs is a bit more support though," Cal mused, using his right fist to push up his left. Lewis was silent and Cal figured he was out of ideas. "Wait a second and I'll be right back," he held his hands off to the side upright and gave his fingers a wiggle. He shifted Owen and got up quickly.

"Dad!" Owen called after him. "I go."

Cal slowed down to wait for the boy to catch up to him. His short blonde hair bounced against his skull as he ran at his father's legs. Cal scooped him up easily, swinging him up against his hip. Owen giggled. "You're as bad as I am," Cal told him. Before Owen could query the statement Cal asked him if he was having fun in the sand pit. Owen nodded and they headed inside. Cal carried Owen over to the breakfast bar where there was a tray of art supplies and when he didn't find what he wanted he checked the pantry shelves.

"Hey!" Gillian protested coming in to the kitchen. "You're getting sand everywhere."

Cal looked down at the floor. There was a little dusting where it had rubbed off his bare feet and Owen's clothes. "Sorry," he rubbed a fist around his chest. "I'll clean it up late-a. Where are the ice-block sticks?"

"Mumeeeee!" Owen crooned at her, reaching out with his arms for her to take him.

"What do you want those for?" Gillian approached. In bare feet she seemed quite short. Cal looked down at her, making sure she had a hold of the toddler before Cal let him go. "You're all damp," Gillian noted.

"They've got the hose out," Cal informed her. With both arms free he could reach up on his tip toes for the top shelf.

"Are you eating the sand Owen, or playing with it?"

"We building."

"Aren't they up here?"

"They're in the plastic container," Gillian directed and turned away. "Are your pull-ups dry Batman?" She moved her index finger across her mouth, turning it into an "X" hand shape.

Owen shook his head. "They're not?" Cal heard her ask as he grasped the blue plastic container above his head.

"Yes."

"They are?"

"Yes."

"Ok, let me check."

Owen gave a screech of displeasure and Cal smiled to himself as he emerged from the pantry, pushing the door closed behind him until it clicked. Gillian had Owen stood on a bar stool while she looked down the back of his trousers at his pull ups. He hadn't quite earned the trust for undies yet. Sometimes he got a few hours if he was under close supervision. And he would go on the big toilet but only if he was reminded. He had just turned three, but wouldn't start at day care until he was fully toilet trained; he was right on the verge. Cal suspected Gillian was trying to use up the pull-ups.

"All right," Gillian conceded he was still dry. "Shall we get you some undies? Seeing as you're still dry? Like a big boy?"

"Poo," Owen suddenly announced.

"You want to go poos?" Gillian asked enthusiastically, bending her legs a little to bring her down to her son's height.

"Swimmy poo," Owen clarified. "Dad take us swimmy poo."

"Maybe late-a," Cal answered as he went by.

"Dad!" Owen called after him. Cal turned back at the open sliding door that led out to the patio. "Swimmy poo!"

"What's the magic word?" Cal asked.

"Pease," Owen rubbed a flat hand against his chest in a clock-wise direction.
Gillian looked over at him and Cal gave a slight shrug to say he didn't mind. "Only if you're good," Gillian answered. Cal stepped outside.

"I good," Owen countered.

"Yeah sure you are," Gillian answered dryly as Cal walked away.

Lewis had a way of huddling over himself when he crouched on the u so he seemed very small but he was shooting up at the moment and Cal was starting to feel a little alarmed that the kid might actually be taller than he was when he finished growing. Lewis was squatting over his square plastic container of sand and was carefully raising the sides to leave the sand behind.

"All right," Cal took his seat again and Lewis turned to him, pivoting on his shin. "I got reinforcements."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"What we're gonna do, is use them to hold the roof up, like in a mine," Cal opened the container.

"A mine?" Lewis queried.

"You know, how they dig in the earth?"

"Oh."

"They use wood to hold up the sides. Or they used to," Cal mused to himself, taking out a few of the sticks and handing them to Lewis. "Here. I think we should break these ones in half," he snapped a stick in two and it made a relatively clean break. Cal picked off the a few stray splinters then put the two sticks into the groove Lewis had already dug out. Cal figured he was going to run the hose beneath, so it was like a river, or it was meant to be a traffic tunnel. "You do yours," Cal indicated the two he had given his son. Lewis snapped his and Cal broke a few more and they made a little row and another on the other side. Then Cal took more sticks, keeping them whole, and placed them on top, to form a wooden bridge. "Now, put the sand on top," Cal directed. "But carefully."

Lewis's smaller hands worked while Cal held the sticks in place so they wouldn't fall and watched the concentration on his son's face. He packed the sand down like mud and eventually he had himself a bridge. He sat back and Cal withdrew his hand and they both watched it for a while. "It works!" Lewis announced, pleased. He looked over to his father with a grin.

Cal smiled in return. "Great work."

"Thanks Dad."

"You're welcome my darlin'."

"Dad!" Owen called out from across the grass. "You come in here."

"You come here," Cal called back. He turned to Lewis who was testing out his bridge by walking his fingers over it like they were the legs of a man. "Lew," he got his son's attention. "You wanna go swimmin' maybe late-a?"

Lewis's blue eyes lit up. "Oh yes!"

"Afta lunch."

Lewis nodded.

"Dad!" Owen yelled again. "Come here!"

"What for?" Cal called back, signing a 'wh?' question at his youngest son who was hanging out of the house, his feet on the track of the sliding door. His legs were bare now, no shorts, so Cal figured the three-year-old was in his briefs.

"Mum said!"

"All right," Cal got to his feet with a sigh. Lewis had the hose in his hand and was twisting it slowly to let the water out. Cal was right. It was meant to be a river. "Maybe a lake Lew?" Cal suggested. Lewis looked confused for a second. Cal indicated the sandpit. "For your riva."

"Oh," Lewis turned back to his work and Cal headed for the house.