Mom, I broke a plate...
The other day, my daughter timidly informed me that she had broken a plate while preparing lunch. "I'm so sorry mom! I broke a plate, but I cleaned up everything." "Are you hurt!?" I exclaimed. "No, I just got a little cut." "Good! Then don't worry about it." I replied calmly. In the past, I may have been a little annoyed at broken dishes. I wouldn't have made a big deal of it, it's just a plate. But I would've probably been annoyed. My first thought after confirming that my daughter wasn't hurt was "Woohoo! One less thing I'll need to pack up for when we move!" It was an excuse to easily get rid of another item in my home. It was broken. Not that I need an excuse. Desiring a clutter-free home is a good enough reason. This was just unexpected help. No guilt at all in getting rid of a broken plate. The same kind of feeling came over me when I had to throw away my black jean capris a few weeks ago. They w...