plethora
overabundance; excess: His crisis brought him a plethora of advice and an almost complete lack of assistance.
a large quantity or wide array; a lot: The co-op program offers a plethora of advantages for students.Visitors are drawn to the main beach, where a plethora of watersports can be enjoyed.
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David had never seen anything so great. It was by far the greatest thing he had ever seen, and likely ever would. The ramifications of seeing the greatest thing ever at just six years old was, of course, lost on the boy. All he knew was that nothing would ever compare to what he was seeing now.
Shelves taller than Dad filled the space as far as he could see. Each shelf contained more colorful boxes than he could count. While he could admit that he could not count very high, that did not mean it was a small number of items. More than he could ever imagine even existing. And each box was filled with treasure.
David’s eyes widened as he got to the back wall. If the shelves were a treasure trove, then he did not have any words to express how amazing, how awe inspiring, the sight before him was. It was single, long shelf with three tiered rows running along the entire length of the wall. And each tier was covered with clear glass jars. It was within those jars that David saw something that he knew would change everything.
The colors, the shapes. It was almost more than he could process. The brilliant reds and greens and yellows. The glistening browns. Even a few black and white offerings. Shapes of animals and fruits. Of balls and beans and even blocks. This was a sacred place. A place that he almost couldn’t bring himself to approach.
Mom was there, standing behind him. She looked at his new altar and chuckled. She casually approached the holy wall and took a small bag from between two jars. A pair of tongs followed. She opened one of the holy jars and removed a few of the treasures within, putting them in the bag. David’s eyes grew wide.
Could he do the same? Could he bring himself to lay claim to the treasures in those jars? Mom did it like it was perfectly normal. David was not sure he could take so freely. But he worked up his courage and asked Mom if he could have his own bag. She looked to Dad, who was perusing the boxes on the other shelves. He looked at the wall, at the jars and shrugged. They had a short conversation. Something about bag weight and how much David could have.
Then Mom took another bag and gave it to him. David could not reach the jars. At least, not enough to open them and retrieve the treasures within. Dad came to the rescue, lifting him up and holding him steady. David’s eyes opened wide. Dad said he could choose from four jars. Just four out of all of them? How was that possible? This was truly a holy task. A task meant to test his will and mettle. To select only four of the holy jars and claim their contents, when there were so many was nearly impossible.
He looked at each one, carefully picking only those he felt would be best. And soon, he came to the conclusion. He chose one that contained offerings of colorful dinosaurs. Another that looked like his Legos. A third that were lumps of glossy light brown, and a fourth that were in the shape of bears that looked like they were once colorful, but had been elevated and cast in brown glory.
They were not all he wanted to try. Not by a long shot. But Mom and Dad had set the rules for this task. Four jars. Four different treasures. He and Dad filled his bag. Although the one Mom had contained more, she would have to share with Dad. David got an entire bag all to himself, even if there was not much in it. It was still a worthy prize to take with him. A true treasure from the greatest thing, the greatest place, that David ever had or ever would be in his life.
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It is a sad day when you go into a candy store with one of these setups and realize that you can't take as much as you used to. Or when you see one and say to yourself that you really shouldn't. Or, well, just stop going into candy stores in general. Truly a sad day indeed.
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