If at first you don't succeed . . .

Recently, I opened Cameron's school bag and found this drawing.  "Cameron, what's this?" I asked.  I was pretty sure it was either the Death Star or some kind of Jedi fight scene or maybe a Lego Power Miners.

"Oh, that's my plan for the sand box," Cameron answered.

For weeks, Cameron has been reporting on the progress of The Great Sand Box Dig.  He and his friends have been foiled by rain, by girls stepping on their tunnels, by youngest groupers dumping sand in precisely constructed ditches.  But they don't let it get them down.  They keep digging.  Because as you can plainly see in the below diagram, it's gonna be really cool.  I'm talking tunnels and trenches and holes that reach the center of the earth kind of cool.

Cameron carefully explained the plan to me and then pointed to the red squiggles at the top of the page.  "See these?  These are two of the classrooms.  Not MY classroom, the other classrooms.  And they're red because they're on fire."

He said this very casually, which I found that much more disturbing.  After some discussion, this element of the plan seems to merely be a flair for the dramatic rather than a cry for help or a need to contact the school psychologist.  I mean, when you spend most of your time drawing Star Wars scenes, you need something to spice up a boring-looking plan.  Additionally, fire gives the tunnel system purpose.  I mean, let's say the classrooms are on fire and you flee to the playground?  Wouldn't you be glad that someone had planned ahead and dug escape tunnels to the center of the earth for you?

A few days later, I opened Cameron's school bag again and found this drawing.  "Cameron, what's this?"

Cameron gave a heavy sigh.  "Well, the sand box plan hasn't been going too good," he said.  "I had to come up with a Plan B."

This time, he's keeping it simple.  Cut-and-dry.  No fire, no drama, just a few simple tunnels and your run of the mill hole to the center of the earth.