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Tommy had thought that getting a sandpit would be good for Wilbur. He loves tactile stuff, and he himself has fond memories of playing in the sandpit he had when he was younger. It had even been shaped like a turtle! What’s not to love?
So Tommy had bought one for him to enjoy in his garden, because he knew the other would feel self-conscious regressing on the beach or at the park, so why not bring the fun to him?
He’d got it set up, little plastic sea creature molds and a classic castle mold to shape the sand into and a little spade.
He had, of course, overlooked one thing in his excited plan. Wilburs scarring sand-eating childhood story. And when it did occur to him he just hoped that Wilbur had grown out of it in his childhood.
If only he knew.
“What you crunchin’ on Wilbs?” Tommy asks, stooping down, thinking that the other had grabbed an apple or some crisps from the kitchen.
Wilbur looked up at him innocently, simply raising fistfuls of sand that he’d scooped up, Tommy realising with horror the grains are all over his mouth now he’s closer.
He continues happily crunching at the grit, none the wiser to the shivers going down Tommys spine. “Ugh, Wil, please come ‘n wash your mouth out,” he grimaces, regretting getting this thing at all. He just hadn’t expected little Wilbur to be the same as child Wilbur when it came to his enjoyment of sand.
“‘S nice,” Wilbur retorts, his front all sandy from scooping the stuff into his mouth.
“It may feel nice for you but it definitely won’t for your teeth,” Tommy points out, then a thought occurs to him with dread. “Please tell me you haven’t swallowed any.”
Wilbur only stares at him blankly, but at this point he already knows the answer. Just to prove the point Tommy stares in horror as Wilbur swallows down the sand in his mouth, somehow deeming it properly chewed, and goes to scoop in another mouthful.
Tommy grabs his hands as gently as he can in his haste. “Bath, bath, you need a bath,” he says, ignoring Wilburs pout as he’s pulled away from his sand buffet.
He gets a cup of water from the kitchen on the way to the bathroom with Wil holding his hand as he leads the way. “Swill this round your mouth and spit it in the sink, as many times as it takes to get rid of all that sand, okay?”
Wilbur looks put out, but he listens, resigned to the fact that he can’t enjoy his strange snack anymore, and Tommy runs him a bath, already feeling grit under his feet that’ll be a nightmare to get out of the house later.
When he’s done washing his mouth out he sits on the closed toilet seat lid, watching Tommy put all his favourite products in.
“You’re gonna have to be supervised when you’re playing with that, cause you’re gonna clear it out Wil, ‘n that’s no fun for anyone, especially not your tummy,” Tommy says as he turns his attention to the boy, brow raised.
“Feels nice in m’ mouth though, should try it,” Wilbur responds, still feeling like the good outweighs the bad whatever Tommy says.
“Even for you Wilbs, I’m gonna have to pass,” Tommy laughs around his discomfort at the idea.
Despite Wilburs naughtiness he’s still pampered in the bath as usual, hair getting washed then topped with bubbles just for the fun of it while he plays with some rubber ducks.
“You, are an absolute gremlin, seriously, you’re not goin’ anywhere near that turtle without adult supervision,” Tommy had said while washing Wilburs hair, lathering it and massaging his scalp with his fingers.
Wilbur only gave a hum, enjoying himself too much but just about registering the truth behind those words, and Tommy rolled his eyes at the response, knowing he’d been too soft on the boy, but he just can’t help it.
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