Broken Eggs

Elizabeth broke 17 eggs last night and informed me of my culpability in the mess, as I failed to place the eggs in a more secure location. She approached me before dinner, as I played a board game with Connor. "It's the eggs" she told me, "they were in my way. I needed the happy milk" (i.e. organic milk, from happy cows).

"What about them? " I asked.

"I broke one and you know, it's your fault because you made them slanted in the refrigerator."

I venture into the kitchen to find a carton of 18 eggs on the kitchen floor with every egg displaced. One is clear across the kitchen. Several are huddled fractured and leaking against our island. One is in pieces and appears to have been stepped on. "Oh Elizabeth.." I start and then stop. I am so angry but refrain from yelling at her. She reminds me it is my fault and we discuss the concept of asking for help if we can't reach the happy milk from happy cows.

"What are you going to do?" she asks.

"Clean it up." I tell her. I start and fail. Half solid, half liquid mess, the paper towels and rags don't work.

Frustrated, I am speaking to her in a very controlled voice, trying not to yell as she pulls up a chair sits down and stares. "What are you doing?" I ask.

"Watching", she tells me. To which I ask, through gritted teeth, "Why?!?"

She looks at me perplexed, as if I should already know the answer. finally she explains, "In case I have a girl. You know, when I grow up and have a girl of my own. I have to know what to do. She will break my eggs and I want to know what to do if she does."

And I am suddenly calm. As she swings her feet back and forth, it occurs to me that she is always watching and storing information. She learns how to cope from how I handle situations just like this.

"Well you can help me" I tell her. "That's what I would want your little girl to do: help you and then move on to something else."

And that's just what we do. She gets me a dust pan and together we scrape the sloppy mess onto the pan, into the trash and then we move on. Incident forgotten and for me a valuable lesson learned.