By Arlene M. Roberts
It's a balmy afternoon. I'm sitting in the sun, enjoying the sound of water nearby and dusting off the sand between my toes. As I close my eyes and listen to the voices around me, I try to convince myself I'm on some Caribbean paradise. But alas, no such luck! I am on the island of Manhattan. The sand between my toes is from the toddlers' sandbox nearby, the sound of water emanates from a wading pool, and the only hint of tropical paradise are the Caribbean nannies taking care of their charges.
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