Ah, the sound of breaking glass from the past Maybe it was a favorite flower vase or a plate that was part of the only matching set of anything you owned? Perhaps it was just one of the hundred glasses that was broken when little hands let go.
Last night, I wasn’t in the room but I heard the sound of glass breaking, followed by my daughter saying tersely, “Mom. What did you do?†It one of her set of glasses that took a tumble.
News flash – mom didn’t do anything. I wasn’t even in the room. Chalk that one up to your friend’s butterfingers. But I love the way I got fingered for the deed. After all the glass I’ve cleaned up and the lips I have bitten (well, some of the time I bit my lip) when my things crashed to the floor. Humph!
Not that I have been keeping a tally, but I think I deserve a break or two. To top it off, the friend was forgiven instantly – not a sharp remark for him. Good thing I don’t cry over spilled milk.
