Day # 44 The Police Car

Mr. T was playing with his little cars for quite a while on the livingroom coffee table while here on Monday.
I had meant the night before to take the blown glass bowl off the table b4 he came, but forgot...one of the hazards of impending retirement.
All of a sudden, I saw him straighten up
and raise his hand back with a car in his fist.
I started up from the chair, saying, 'Mr. T, don't throw that. Don't.'
Too late.
He couldn't co-ordinate enough to stop,
but I caught him by surprise mid-throw,
and maybe startled him a bit,
because he lost stride, his arm jerked,
and he bonked himself on the head with the police car
but then threw it anyway.
By then it had lost most of its momentum.
Still, it landed on the lip of the bowl,
and bounced off onto the coffee table and then hit the floor.
Then he started crying because of so many reasons.
my verbal order; my starting to get up; the bonk on the head; the crack of the dish; and the whacking onto the teak wood coffee table.
Opa came in from the kitchen and asked what was wrong.
I was laughing and Trent was crying.
Then he said 'You know you shouldn't throw things,'
and walked back to his cooking.
Mr. T couldn't cry long because I was laughing so much,
and, as we all know, laughter is infectious,
plus he didn't bonk himself that hard.
Image! The bowl wasn't even chipped.