February 12th, 2006
Precious
We were given a set of lovely china that belonged to Ken’s Nana, and one of the eight dinner plates has a tiny chip on the edge. The first time they were part of a holiday dinner I thought that maybe I should use the chipped one at Henry’s place. He was just old enough to use a real plate, but not old enough to be freely trusted to do so. If he threw it to the floor it wouldn’t be as big of a loss.
But I couldn’t do it. I figured that if I followed that logic, he would likely be stuck with that plate for years. (It was back when I thought he might always be our youngest.)
Though clearly I tend to worry too much, this time I was glad to have a long reaching imagination. I could picture him noticing the chip and wondering why he always had to have the damaged plate.
What a shame it would have been had I taken from him even a tiny bit of the joy of our holiday meals… in order to spare a plate.