For What It's Worth

Pulling into the parking lot at Albertson's, I went over the grocery list in my head: chicken, lettuce, rolls, apples, milk, cereal for the kids, a premium ice cream. The last seemed like an extravagance, but we had friends coming for dinner. I still had some cleaning to do, and I needed time to shower and dress.

"Come on, guys," I said to the kids as I shifted into park and turned off the ignition. "Let's see how fast we can do this."

I scrambled out, and lifted my two-year-old daughter, Andrea, from her car seat, holding her against my hip.

Seven-year-old Max, my oldest, volunteered, "Let me help." "Okay," I responded, "you close the door when everybody's out." With three kids, I always felt like I was forgetting something.

I felt a tug at my sleeve and turned around.

There he was, my four-year-old. He wasn't one to say much. Even when we said our prayers at night, Daniel kept his thoughts to himself. I put my hand out and he grabbed it as we headed to the store.

We were halfway there when Daniel dropped my hand and walked over to the cart return area. He stopped, peering at something by his feet. "Daniel, leave it, whatever it is," I said. "We need to go." He reached down and picked up his prize, a grimy square of greenish paper. I glanced at it.

"I'll take care of it till we're home." I shoved it into my pocket.

Continued on page 2: »