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The Mysterious Case of the Broken Dishes
Or, does the Easter Bunny crash kitchens?
Okay, picture this. It was 6:15 on Easter Sunday morning. I was in bed, half asleep. Hubby was at the kitchen table having his first cup of coffee.
Suddenly I heard the breaking of a lot of glass. A LOT of glass. Our floors are tile over concrete; if anything glass is dropped from even my knee height, it smashes — I mean to smithereens. I laid there thinking, okay, he must have dropped his ice tea pitcher. It’s really big and might sound like that much glass breaking.
Then I heard him sweeping up a lot of glass, and I knew he had to run the vacuum after that to get all those tiny pieces up before they ended up in paws. I decided to get up, so he could vacuum without worrying about waking me up.
I said, “You broke your ice tea pitcher, right?”
“No,” he replied. Then he told me what happened.
No one was near or had been near that cupboard since I got a bowl out of it about 9:00 the night before. He was sitting at the kitchen table. Suddenly, he heard glass breaking and saw one of the cupboards opening, as more pieces of our dinnerware fell out and smashed on the floor.
He jumped up and went to the cupboard. The second shelf was tilted, and the dishes were…
