A (small) Tale of Woe

Last week, I did the unthinkable. I dropped our digital camera. And it broke. I know, this kind of thing happens once in a while, but I feel we as a family have paid our due. In the last six years we've gone through five cameras. Five. Count them with me:

1. We left the first one on a hike (along with a pair of binoculars) in the Trinity Alps wilderness. Darn good pictures on it too...
   
2. Dragged off the table, down the stairs, and whapped against the basement door by Biscuit the Cat.
3. Dropped down two different mountainsides by hubby, this camera slowly died over several months.
   
4. Thrown from the top of the dining room table by a rambunctious twin.
   
5. Dropped (by me) for no apparent reason in the living room.
   

So I was ranting and raving at myself for being such a bungling fool when I knew I had just bought the last replacement camera last fall. I sat down and made a quite futile attempt to take it apart and 'fix' it. The twins came up to me and I explained that mommy had broken the camera and I was very sad about it. Patrick thought about this for a second, then came up to me and grabbed my knee. "Big Hug," he stated solemnly. Wow. Sometimes that does make it all better.