When Kat (who then was still known as Sara) was young, she had difficulties with transitions. Any deviation from schedule was, in her mind, a bad thing. At someone�s suggestion, we developed a code word to warn her when we were about to deviate from schedule and thought it would be a fun detour. Figuring that we might as well teach vocabulary while we were at it, we used to say to her, �Serendipity.� The system worked quite well until one day Day-Hay moaned, �But I don�t want to be dipity. I always have to be dipity.�

Yesterday Day-Hay was content to be dippity as was I. Kat was off at a youth group weekend and Mr. Philately was off at a stamp show. Day-Hay and I went over to the music store she rents her flute from because one of the keys was sticking. The music store is at the local mall. After we dropped off her flute, we started to head back to the car when we realized that Boston Store was having a big sale. We looked at each other and, without saying a word, invoked serendipity.

Some days are just magical. Some days everything clicks. Day-Hay needed a new spring dress so we headed to the girls� department. We were not very hopeful. Day-Hay is hard to shop for in dresses. She is small and many of the dresses in her size are either too babyish or not proportioned quite right for her stage of development. We found two dresses to try on. One was a great deal. The other was not on sale but I decided to let her try it on anyway and figured I�d decide what to do about it if it came to that. It didn�t come to that. The expensive dress looked okay but only okay. The sale dress was stunning. The blue was a good color on her, the dress draped nicely over her figure, the style was age-appropriate, and it sparkled tastefully. (Very few dresses manage to sparkle tastefully.)

Finding the dress and enjoying the shopping would have been enough but there was more. As we passed the lingerie department, I found real cotton flannel nightgowns on sale. Living in the (sometimes but not this year) frozen north, I appreciate flannel nightgowns�the real kind that get softer and softer each time they are worn until, like my old ones, the fabric wears bare in spots. ( I�ve been told by at least one woman of the world that men do not appreciate flannel nightgowns but the men she romances probably are not as blind without contacts as Mr. Philately is. For the largely blind (and I should know because I�m one of them), it�s all about touch. Satin is nice but broken in flannel is a truly sensual experience. Mr. Philately is smart enough to agree.)

Then we realized that it was 1:00 p.m. Day-Hay understandably wanted lunch. I offered to get her pizza and then to take her home to bake cookies she had promised to bake for her Sunday school class today. After that, I would take her to her friend A.�s house. And then I knew that I really rated�at least today. She suggested she call A. and tell A. she would be late so we could finish shopping after lunch�and she did. After lunch, I found a wonderful suit for me, with Day-Hay acting as fashion designer.

I'm glad Day-Hay was willing to be dipity. I just love dipity.

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