Last week Marian and I attended a holiday drop in hosted by our friend, Ann Beth. She encouraged folks to bring contributions for the Toys for Tots drive in lieu of hostess gifts. While Marian was getting ready, I ran up the street to our local Rite-Aid to pick something up and stood slack jawed in the aisle for more than 20 minutes trying to make a selection from the rather limited array of toys stocked by our neighborhood drug store.

A baby doll that cries and moves its arms and legs? Creepy. A life-sized toddler doll? Creepier. Guns, tanks, soldiers and other war paraphernalia? Out of the question. A plastic pony with hair that changes color when your blow dry it? WTF?!

And then I saw it. And, I swear to you I heard a choir of angels. There ... on the tip top shelf out of the reach of anybody under five feet nine inches (I managed to get to it thanks to the extra lift of my Dansko clogs) ... a 95 piece kitchen play set.

Tiny plastic chicken legs and cakes and hot dogs and asparagus spears. Spoons and bowls and rolling pins. Chinese take-out boxes. All packaged in a nice square bucket with a handle. Oh ... my ... god. I had to have it. I purchased it and carried it home like a baby. I sat with it on my lap until we left for Ann Beth's. When we got there, I didn't simply put it on the table; I dragged Ann Beth in the dining room to show it off. And when we left, I couldn't stop thinking about all those little pieces of plastic food. 

I'm not dropping hints here. Please don't run out and buy me a set from the Rite-Aid in Daniel Village on Wrightsboro Road in Augusta, Ga. I'd feel ridiculous. But I'd probably find a way to get over it.