So wrong

When I was expecting our first child, I bought some beautiful handloomed rugs from Oaxaca.

"The baby can crawl here, and play with her toys," I reasoned.   "I can send them out to clean. Besides, they're absolutely beautiful."

I'd been looking for an excuse for years.

I began searching in shops and markets for just the right choice.   Then voila!   One Sunday in Ajijic, I met Gregorio Ruiz from Teotitlan del Valle, selling rugs on the street.   His family carries on the weaving tradition, shearing their own sheep, spinning the yarn and dying it with natural colors.   Each piece is superbly woven.   And I prefer buying from the artisan rather than stores.

Armed with two new Zapotec area rugs, I awaited my "daughter's" birth.

I was so wrong.

My first child, David, is not a girl.

And he did not crawl neatly on the rugs, but struck out swiftly for cold tile floors and soon made the patio part of his crawling track.

Oh well.   Live and learn.