Stupid Orange Juice

I bought a new tablecloth.  It’s really pretty and goes great in my house.  I put in on the table for breakfast on Sunday.  We all sat down to eat but before the children could get started I gave a very firm lecture about spilling.

These children spill constantly.  I know they are not unique in this aspect.  All children spill.  I understand this.  The thing that kills me though is that they’ll stand there, dumbfounded, staring at the overturned glass as it continues to pour liquid onto the table, off on to the chairs and draining to the floor. 

I gave them a lecture.  They were to make a concerted effort to keep their glasses in the upright position and away from the edge of the table. Sassy rolled her eyes at me, and I could tell that The Bandit was not threatened at all. 

I redoubled my efforts.  My Honey watched from the other side of the table.  I don’t know if he new better than me the whole exercise was futile or just a bit over indulgent on my part, but either way he kept quiet and remained vigilant.

Breakfast proceeded as usual.  My Honey and I tried in vain to hold an adult conversation and the children alternated between bickering and giggling hysterically.  The inevitable happened and I saw The Bandit throw some food on the floor.  I don’t know why.  Does it matter? 

I leaned over to grab his arm to stop the hurling of more food and, in slow motion, I could see my hand brush his Elmo glass of orange juice.  And over it went.

And it was all my fault.

Dammit.

My Honey was just grateful that it was me who spilled the first glass on the new table cloth.  This always happens to me.  No wonder no one takes me seriously.