The other day, as Silvia and Anna were chasing each other like puppies through the house, Anna bumped into a table and knocked a glass vase onto the floor where it shattered in a spray of shards. I think the average adult's response to this is to step away and find a careful way of cleaning it up. Anna is neither average or an adult.
By the time I got to the scene, she had reached down and scooped up a handful of pieces and was holding them out to me in supplication. "Mommy, I broke the vase! Here!"
And me? I instinctively reached out and took the handful of glass into my own bare hands. Ouch.
We both ended up with small cuts along our palms and it could have been much worse. Best of all, I got to add to that list of things, either too obvious or too bizarre, you never think you'll say- "Never pick up broken glass! Wait for mommy and daddy, ok?"
2 comments:
When you were very little and we were living in Oxnard, California your brother John came running up the front path to the house and ran full tilt, arms extended, into the glass of the "screen" door. No tempered glass, it broke into millions of shards. And there was John in bare feet outside and me with bare feet inside. And he paniced and WOULD NOT stand still - so I had to step out onto the broken glass and pick him up and a neighbor took both of us to the emergency room to sew up his hand and both our feet. While another neighbor took care of you and your brother Michael. Aren't neighbors wonderful? I'm sorry you and Anna had this distressing glassial experience.
That song "Walking On Broken Glass" or whatever it's called is going through my head now. Thanks.
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