The air mattress my daughter slept on was slowly sinking.

We were sleeping at a relative’s house, and my husband felt she was big enough now to forgo the playpen that I had brought.

“She’ll have more room to move,” he had said, blowing it up just for her.

But he was sound asleep when I began to notice the mattress getting mushy.


My daughter was asleep on it – right next to our high double bed, and I didn’t like the feeling of her sinking throughout the night. So I set pillows up alongside our bed so she wouldn’t roll off into the abyss underneath.

But that must not have done the trick because I woke to a little moan and jumping up, I rescued her from where she had rolled.

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My daughter’s sweet tooth got the better of me the other day when I gave in to her request for a cookie.

Even though I knew we were
headed to some sweet treats at the grocery store, I thought I’d allow her one
little indulgence.


Opening the bulk-sized box of Oreos in our cupboard, I was shocked at
what I saw. There were nearly ten tubes of opened, untied packages of Oreos with
varying amounts of cookies in each one.

Horrified at the waste, I called my Oreo-loving son, certain that he
would know something about the situation. 

“Oh yeah,”he said, “those cookies kept taking longer to soak up the milk
when I dunked, so I just kept opening new packs.”

“You mean you did nothing to take care of the cookies?” I asked, not
doing a very good job at keeping my anger in check, “No twisty, no baggy, no
nothing?” 

Ugh, what a waste. Instead of taking care of each opened tube of cookies
so they wouldn’t go stale, my son just went on to a new one each time the crunch
disappeared.

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When I was a little girl, my Girl Scout troop attended a father/daughter square dance. 

It was a fun evening of “swing your partner” and “do-si-do” and, after a full night, my dad treated me to a hot fudge brownie sundae at our local “Big Boy” restaurant.

I remember how special I felt on those square dancing nights with my dad and mmm that hot fudge was good!

Dads are important aren’t they? 


Unfortunately, not all of us have happy memories of our fathers. For some reason or other our relationships may be soured, tainted or even nonexistent...

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Many of the people who walked out of Wal-Mart’s doors that sunny Saturday couldn’t resist the waiting ball players and their fundraising buckets.

It was what our local Little League calls “Can Day,” and my daughter was there in full uniform looking cute as a button. It was definitely hard to say no to her or any of her teammates.  

I supervised her with watchful eyes as she helped raise funds for her team, making sure she had a hearty “thank you” for those who chose to give.

It was an interesting time of “people watching” for me as I studied the different ways folks responded to the kids' fundraising efforts.

Normally the table is turned, and I’m that busy shopper coming out of Wal-Mart’s doors.
I see the baseball uniforms or the fundraising signs, and I make a quick assessment of the situation.

I’ve already spent too much, and there’s no way I can give up any more cash, right? 
Carefully, I avoid the eyes of the fundraisers, and I move quickly on my way.

Phew… got myself out of that one … just think about the dollars I saved!

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The snake in my strawberry patch stealthily slithered underneath a pile of black plastic just a few feet from where I stood.

Its friend must have had the same idea, because it hightailed it towards the weedy shelter of the raspberries just a moment later.

I watched the pattern of the snake’s scales as it slithered in, complaining about my invasion with a rattled hiss.

There was something about the snakes that made my skin crawl. Even though they were most likely nonvenomous, they still made me want to ban the berry patches from my garden adventures.

Maybe I’ll forgo the joy of having fresh berries on my cereal this summer. Or, maybe I’ll even give up the wholesomeness of garden tomatoes, corn and beans since the snakes are likely to invade that area too.

I mean, if they’ve taken over the garden, you can count me out, right?

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