It was an unmitigated eyesore. Bright pink, lavender trim and a lime green “Daisy Mae” painted in script across the headboard. There were a couple of broken spindles and a missing decorative ball. Still, there was something about it that drew Paul in like metal to a magnet. Careful inspection revealed that underneath all the paint, glue and amateur patchwork, the antique crib had been lovingly designed, cut, assembled and finished by the talented hands of a remarkable craftsman.
In its current condition, he knew Melinda would not be happy if he returned home with it. And he feared that the mere suggestion of placing their soon-to-be first-born baby in it to sleep, might cause his normally sweet and gentle wife to erupt in a hormonally charged outburst that could very-well negatively impact his health.