What's the Rule?

Nana, I don't want to ride in the cart. Can I walk, if I obey?

Yes, you may. What's the rule?

What?

What's the rule?

What?

What's the rule?

What's the rule?

Ohhhh, don't touch.

Don't touch. Okay.

Whew!

Our first destination was the ladies room. In very tight quarters, I did my best to pull up the Sugarplum's wonderwears and had grasped the waistband of her little bitty capris, when I heard, "Wedgie. Gotta wedgie. Gotta wedgie!"

"Okay, okay. I'll fix it. Sorry." *mopping Nanabrow*

We'd no sooner exited the room -- all clothing adjusted to the Plum's satisfaction -- when she spied a huge display of riding toys in large, colorful boxes and scampered ahead of me. "Look, Nana!"

"I see. Those look wonderful. That little boy on the box looks like he's having fun."

"Yeah!"

I watched her incline her body ever so slightly. Then she lifted her foot and gingerly placed her toe on the front of the box.

"SugarPlum, what are you doing?"

"I didn't touch. That was my foot. I didn't touch it with my hands."

The bad Nana laughed first. Then she amended the rule: "SugarPlum, don't touch with your feet, either."

Later, she suddenly began walking with her head hanging almost to her left shoulder, which appeared to make it a bit difficult for her to keep her balance. "What are you doing, SugarPlum?"

"I'm watchin' my head, Nana."

"You're watching your head?"

"Yeah, I don't wanna bump it into anything."

To the little kid's credit, she made it through 90% of the shopping trip, before she was assigned a position in the cart. ºÜº Good job, Plum!


And he brought forth his people with joy, and his chosen with gladness. ~Psalm 105:43