So I mentioned the cornhole game, right? Yeah, I know, that name sort of freaks me out, too. But still, the kids—yes, people, the kids—loved it. Being the fine parents we strive to be, we decided to buy a set for ourselves. When we asked where to find it, our friends (who introduced us to it) let us know that their set was a gift from a friend, who made it for them. And, “No!” they practically shouted, “Don’t dare buy one. Those are no good at all!” Unfortunately, their craftsman-type friend isn’t also our friend, so we were out of luck. “Make one!” they cheered. “Puh-lease,” I thought.

My industrious husband, however, thought it was a fine idea. He got it into his head that this was going to be a great father-son summer project. The boys would look up the dimensions online (warning: don’t Google corn-hole, who knows what you’ll get!), they’d shop for the materials, and away they’d go.

It sort of worked like that. Except the boys didn’t Google the dimensions, my husband did. And the boys didn’t help him shop for materials. I did. And I didn’t get nervous until I read this part of his list:

· thread

· fabric

· whole-kernel feed corn

Then, I got very nervous.

“Honey,” I said sweetly, “What’s the thread for?”

Smiling innocently, he practically chirped, “Oh, I thought you could make the beanbags.”

Now, how long have we been married?

“Has he gone mad?” I wondered. For a moment, it was a real possibility.

Not wanting to cause a horrible accident on the way to Home Depot, I amiably suggested that perhaps a sewing machine would be required for the creation of 8 homemade bean bags. My one lousy needle and thin black thread might not be sufficient, I theorized.

He remained certain I could pull it off.

I left him at Home Depot and quietly went in search of bean bags, which by the grace of God I found – a beautiful, sturdy, machine-made set of 8, just perfect for a family round of cornhole.

Thank you, Lord, for providing those bean bags!