Walking on walking on broken glass”
This song has been tearing through my head lately. We have had an abnormally high number of broken dishes around chez us lately. In the last two weeks someone or another has broken one plate, a pasta bowl, three drinking jars (I use them for canning, too…), and the gallon jar that was used for storing granola. I was doing mostly fine with it. I only freaked out a little over the gallon jar, but that’s because it fell off the top of the fridge, hit a teapot and my Kitchen Aid mixer on the way down, shattered on the countertop and then the remaining pieces shattered on the floor. That was a bit of work. Thankfully, The Evil Genius was home and -between the two of us- we kept the kids out of the way and got the glass cleaned up thoroughly.
My eyes have had a great work-out while searching really hard for every last shard each time something broke so that I wouldn’t have to dig it out of a little tootsie. I was even okay when one of my jars lost its bottom in the canner yesterday. I didn’t even think about the fact that I lost a potential jar of pickles more than twice…
…Then “it” happened. Ty was spinning around on a rotating stool. (WHY did we put those near the computer desk?) He twirled around once, kicked my favorite tea cup (the big, well-used, well-loved “One Good Woman” mug) and somehow when the cup hit the cabinet, the handle broke. The combination of the weight of the mug and the sharp jutting piece where the handle was cut Ty’s foot pretty badly on the way down. Look at the sharp edge on that thing! Poor kid. He didn’t worry about his foot- he worried that I’d be sad my favorite mug was now done-for.
Well, he didn’t worry about his foot until he saw it bleeding rather profusely. “MOM! There’s BLOOD! Lots of BLOOD!” Thankfully, it was a good, clean cut and a little pressure stopped the bleeding quickly. After a wad of gauze and half a roll of surgical tape- because how in the world do you get an adhesive bandage to stay on a 6-year-old’s foot?- Ty was back in the business of being a happy-go-lucky kid.
The glass clean-up wasn’t so bad, either, because the handle didn’t shatter. I could pick the pieces up mostly with my hands. A quick pass of the broom took care of the rest.
..But boy, am I tired of walking on, walking on broken glass.