When I was growing up we had a red plate.
And when you got an A on a test or lost a tooth or won a blue ribbon for the hula hooping contest or finished second in the multiplication bee….you couldn’t wait to get home because you knew that sitting at your place at the dinner table….
….would be the red plate.
Your mom would serve dinner and you’d look around the table at everyone else eating on plain white plates.
Bless their hearts.
And you knew that you knew that you knew….you were special.
I mean after all…
….the plate said it. Continue reading