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He’d come grocery shopping with me because he wanted to be my helper.  But we were three minutes into the store when he said, “watch this, mom,” and as I rounded the vegetable corner with my cart, he got on tip toe and licked a cabbage.  “Whoa, buddy”, I said, literally springing from my cart to his face.  “We don’t do that to the cabbages.”  Only as I spoke his pointer finger was digging its way through a head of broccoli we hadn’t needed either.  “Aghhh!…who was watching?” I wondered.  And we swiftly switched aisles.

His three year old legs ran ahead wearing next year’s flip flops, only he couldn’t keep these on any better than yesterday’s green ones.  And as his fingers fumbled with his shoe,  his voice panicked, ” wait for me, mom!”  He held my hand to the meat section and then quickly stacked the sausage packages seven high.  He dragged his hands over the cans of beans and tomatoes, as we pushed the cart past.  Then as we waited to pay, he knelt to feverishly re-organize the candy boxes.  His fingers never stopped moving.  They just never… stopped…moving

But things were different today.  I could be thankful for his little hands.  His vegetable groping, candy sorting, I-must-touch-everything-I-see hands.  His healthy hands.

And the difference?  A little sleep. 

I heartily recommend it.  To myself, of course.

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