By eight the sandbox already had a polite crescent. Snowmen stood with their scarves still unknotted, each waiting for a carrot of the right length. The park keeper kept a tray of grass-blade scarves and would not let anyone skip ahead of a neighbor's smile.
We asked at the kiosk by the gate. "I thought they were arguing over vegetables," said the woman who sells jam. "It is only fittings. A nose that hurries sits crooked, and then the whole morning looks a little surprised."
A notice appeared on the sandbox rim in a careful mitten print. Carrots are issued one at a time. Smiles that are still deciding should not be tapped. A snowman who waits finds the scarf that matches.
The next morning the same man came back with the same cup and watched the same keeper tie the same quiet blade of grass. He said the line looked a little rounder, and that the neighboring smile had been allowed to finish itself.