My Son, the Thief

This morning, I spent some quality time at the store that quite frankly is what makes America great: The Wal-Mart Supercenter. Where else can you get some green beans and a flat-screen plasma tv, all at the low Wal-Mart price? It was a happy day when the supercenter opened it's doors, not even a year ago. Before Frederick got one (a supercenter), I drove to Hagerstown, or even Charlestown, WV, to get the goods. The supercenter really can save you money, but only if you stick to the list. Otherwise, you can wander for hours and come home with a bunch of stuff you don't really need. Today, I stuck to my list and got my two-weeks worth of groceries for our family for under $100. Not too shabby. Unfortunately, Patch didn't know Wal-Mart is a steal. He thought you went there to steal. I came home, took him out of his infant seat (which he rode in while I shopped, since he fell asleep on arrival, but then woke up in the produce aisle), and found a shoplifted package of baby sweet potatoes. Oh dear. Please don't call the cops. I promise I will go back and pay the cashier 98 cents. He felt a little sheepish and went to sleep from shame. I hope this doesn't go on his permanent record.