Early Me I grew up in Spring Lake, North Carolina. Our house was a remodelled army barracks, but it had indoor plumbing, a step up from my parents' West Virginia childhoods. We had a dirt inclined driveway off of a dirt road. It especially works well if you have someone help you spit a lot on the sand to keep it wet. Rocks are furniture.
Sticks are people.
Letting others throw sand in your eyes will get you a trip to the hospital where they'll put Koolade lookalike dye in your eyes to see if any important parts got scratched. Kids who live without dirt are very unfortunate. When I wasn't playing in the dirt or eating glass, I always had my nose in a book. My mother read to us often and took us to the library before we were even close to running out of books. I was told that my father would take a flour sack up into a tree and read it if he was without reading materials, so I guess it was equal parts nature and nurture.