I had one of those, and it was one guess for 'first' remembered.
The other was odd. I fell in love with a miniature clam shovel up at the cabin. So my dad painted the handle blue and made it 'my' shovel. I loved to go down to the beach with it and dig random holes - some of which yielded butter clams.
Which was the point of the exercise for me. Loved them clams, and loved finding some. Because - if I found a few - some adult would then feel compelled to finish digging a batch to steam for lunch/dinner.
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