Our computer desk looks like so:

It leans up against the wall and has a coordinating bookshelf to the left of the computer.  I like it very much.

On the top shelf of the desk sat our engagement photo.  It was a black and white photo floating in a glass frame. Again, I like it very much.

Analie was cat-napping and I was holding her while I listed some things on Ebay, when suddenly my stocking foot slipped on the wood floor and tapped the leg of the desk.  This slight tap was enough to send the engagement photo careening from the top shelf and directly on to the computer shelf.  It fell with a huge (and quite shocking) crash onto the keyboard.

Fortunately not on Analie’s head, which was just inches from the keyboard.

It was one of those moments where I just sat there like WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! and then once I realized what happened I felt like a terrible parent for pretty much coming within mere inches of severely brain-damaging my child.

So I just sat there and stared at the broken glass all over the shelf and keyboard and tried to figure out what to do.

My first course of action, once I came to my senses, was to put my now-awake (and fairly angry) daughter on her blanket on the floor.

Then I tried to fit the broken frame into the trash can.  It wouldn’t fit, no matter how I tried to wedge it in the can, and then I realized there’s some proverb about not trying to fit a sqaure peg into a round hole, and if you changed the word “peg” to “frame”, it would be exactly what I was trying to do.

So I just left it on top of the can.

I think at least half of my brain capacity went on the Oregon Trail and died of dysentary as soon as Analie was born, because I know better than to leave broken glass just laying around.  I also know better than to brush broken glass shards into a mesh trash can.


I shook the glass bits off the keyboard all over the desk, and then (because I am just that smart), I brushed the shards off into my hand.  As soon as I did this, my hand started bleeding.  Because of course glass shards are going to cut, any smart person would know that, yes?

There I was…crying baby, bleeding hand, broken engagement photo, glass on the floor.

So I did what any other new mom would do: I went to the bathroom, ran my hand under cold water for 5 seconds, and then came back, picked my baby up, and sat down to watch another episode of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman while I fed her again.  Eventually my hand stopped bleeding (you can barely see it now) and all returned to normal.

Until Joey came home.

His first comment, upon entering the den, was “why did you throw broken glass away in the mesh trash can?”

And then I had to tell him exactly what I just told y’all.  He still was unimpressed about my method for dealing with the broken glass and if he were my teacher and I were in school, he’d have given me the grade of F-.

He did remedial cleanup on the glass shards still in the keyboard and on the desk (but he was smart enough to not brush them off with his hand) and then threw out the engagement photo, frame and all.  In an actual trash can that it fit inside.

I don’t think I’m putting anything else up on the top shelf that has the possibility of severely maiming anyone if it falls again.  Maybe I’ll put a Puffalump up there.  I always wanted a Puffalump when I was growing up but my mom said I had plenty of toys and didn’t need a Puffalump.