Interior. Daylight. Mommy is on the step ladder in the kitchen putting away the "G" glasses that Great-Greendad insisted we take (or at least that's what Grandma says).
R: Mommy, can I help you?
M: Yes, Ryanne, you can bring me the glasses, please - one at a time so you can use both hands.
Ryanne successfully carries 4 or so of the glasses to me. Two remain.
R: Mommy, look. (She is carrying two, one in each hand.)
M: Ryanne put one of them back. I am worried that if you bring both, one will drop and break.
Instead of turning around and putting one down, she starts running toward me with both of them. She holds one out and I grab it as she nears...
R: Mommy, I can *crash*. (Crying.)
Ah well, the kitchen floor needed cleaning anyway.
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