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The Main Dish

It was the main dish I was worried about.  What to bring for the main dish.

I sat with my fingers drumming my lips.  My daughter looked over her breakfast bowl and shrugged.  Between the two of us our ideas didn’t sound so good.

My son honed in on what he understood.

At which time he dove from his chair and ran toward the kitchen, his feet slapping the ground.  “I know,” he said.

He pulled open the storage drawer where our Christmas platters rest.  “Take this main dish,” he said.  He pointed to the one with red cherries.  “It’s the prettiest!”


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