I think I’ll walk down a different aisle.

I’ll take the stripey ones on bottom, if you don’t mind.

My daughter was helping me shop for a wedding present. The bride had registered at Kohl’s and I had a copy of her registry. I decided to buy a sheet set. When we got to the linen section, I handed the list to my daughter.

“Just read off the first few letters of the merchandise number,” I told her, “so I can find the right sheets.” I started down the sheet aisle. Behind me my daughter called out in a clear, loud voice, over and over,

The story about The Rug

This story has nothing to do with children. It ought to help me deserve that Versatile Blog Award. It will also serve the purpose of telling a little bit about myself; although, not necessarily a part I’m proud of. Nevertheless, my sister called this story “beautiful,” so I hope you enjoy it too.

My brother-in-law’s family moved to our town from out of state nearly two years ago. They bought this big beautiful house only a couple of miles away. Once they were settled in, we were pleased to get the tour. There was much to be impressed by, but to me the best part was to be found in a more remote room of the house.

In this room, I became transfixed by The Rug. It was a vision in 5×7. The walls and ceiling melted away. The voices of my family faded out. A brilliant white light shone around the rectangle on the floor.

Don’t give this kid a credit card!

My three-year-old son is a great shopping companion. He seems to enjoy it even more than I do. He screams,