My husband brought our three young children down the long hall of the

maternity ward, pausing to let them wave in each doorway at the new

mothers cuddling bundles. At my room, he beckoned them in and

introduced them to their new brother.

Five-year-old Katrina gingerly fingered the baby's thick red hair that the

nurse had brushed and oiled into a fat top curl. She inspected his little

feet, admired his tiny ears, and planted kisses on his dimpled elbow. But

her coos stopped short at his wrist.

Drawing back, she pointed at the identification bracelet and frowned,

"Look, Mommy. They left the price tag on!"

By Carol McAdoo Rehme (c) 2000
from Chicken Soup for the Expectant Soul
by way of Christian Voices