"Look ma, this is pretty cool, eh?" he says
as he walks past me toward the kitchen,
balancing a bowl above his head on just three fingers.
Before I can say 'you're gonna drop it!'
it crashes to the floor and breaks into a dozen pieces.
He looks up at me with huge eyes,
obviously surprised that the bowl dare drop from his fingers
and shatter.
I just shake my head and tell him to get the broom.
I never get worked up about broken dishes or glassware - it happens
too frequently in this house.
He tells me he's sorry, gives me a hug and grabs the broom,
chuckles and says,
"But ya haveta admit, that was pretty cool, wasn't it?!"
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