I was washing one of my double-walled cups this morning, and I dropped it in the sink. It broke into about 14 pieces, which, after a moment of staring and a little pang of sadness - I love those cups - I collected and threw away.
A long time ago, when we still lived in our old house in Michigan, I remember my mom telling me a story. Two little girls from our church were over, and one of them dropped a glass on the floor. It broke. The little girl looked up in terror, clearly expecting anger. My mom, in classic practical Dutch fashion, said, "Let's clean that up."
I am grateful that I've never had to be afraid when I broke a cup. In fact, when we cleared the table when we were little, my brother and I used to balance the Corelle plates on our heads while we walked across the cement floors. (That might not have been the smartest move ever.) The point is: we didn't have to be afraid of the consequences if we accidentally dropped them.
A long time ago, when we still lived in our old house in Michigan, I remember my mom telling me a story. Two little girls from our church were over, and one of them dropped a glass on the floor. It broke. The little girl looked up in terror, clearly expecting anger. My mom, in classic practical Dutch fashion, said, "Let's clean that up."
I am grateful that I've never had to be afraid when I broke a cup. In fact, when we cleared the table when we were little, my brother and I used to balance the Corelle plates on our heads while we walked across the cement floors. (That might not have been the smartest move ever.) The point is: we didn't have to be afraid of the consequences if we accidentally dropped them.
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