We've had a lot of broken glass in our house recently. The first incident followed my daughter's banishment from the dinner table. She would not eat a leaf of spinach per our request. Then she would not stop screaming about it. I sent her to her room, which overlooks the patio where the rest of us finished dinner. To let us know she made it to her bedroom in one piece, she kicked at her window. We ignored her. She kicked the window again. The window imploded. We stopped ignoring her. Glass was everywhere. My daughter remained in one piece.
The second incident came when we watched a friend's dog. Molly and Zeb (our dog) are good pals. They bite one another on the face and eat from the other dog's food dish. They also bark at every ambulatory creature that dares use our sidewalk. On a typical school day, the bodies and barks seem endless. To let our neighbors know they are watching, the dogs pounce on the chairs and press their faces against the glass. One of the dogs pressed its face through the glass. The window imploded. The dogs were unscathed.
The third incident ironically started with my lament of barking dogs and broken glass. I swept my hands through the air to emphasize my disgust. I took down a tumbler in the gesture. The glass exploded. Water sprayed everywhere.
Finally, when I sat down for dinner last night, my wife broke some news to me. "We lost another mushroom cup today." A tear fell from my eye. Three months ago my wife purchased a set of eight from a consignment shop. Now we have four. I'm about to register at Kohls for plastic dinnerware. I cannot afford any more breaks.