Walking on, walking on broken glass. Lalala.

I swept out the garage today. I actually had been meaning to do it for some time, but I just hadn't gotten around to it, what with all the other little things I have going on. And sweeping out the garage was not on my list of things to do today. At all. But now it's done, and I suppose I should maybe thank my son for that.

Want to know how I came about to having to sweep out the garage? I'll show you.

See this window?

That's right. It's broken. I realized it was broken when Chris asked me could I please move my van into the garage so he'd have more room to catch the little helicopters that were falling all around outside in the driveway. You know those little helicopter things that fall from the trees this time of year. Those helicopters.

So I saw something shiny and sparkly amid the dirt on the garage floor and upon closer inspection, realized it was shards of broken glass. But from where did it come? I have to admit, at first I never suspected it was from the window because the blinds were drawn and from inside, they concealed the gaping hole of the broken glass. But once I realized there was no other logical place where it came from, I peered intently through the blinds and saw that gaping hole. And my jaw dropped.

Want to know why my jaw dropped? Because it wasn't because the window was broken. It was because when I picked up my oldest son to take him to his skills session at the Sports Zone, he never said a word to me about how the soccer ball he was kicking around made contact with the window and broke it. Maybe he thought I wouldn't notice. Maybe he thought I wouldn't suspect him. I don't really know. But when I picked him up an hour later, after having swept out the entire garage and questioned him about it, he told me in disbelief, "I only kicked the soccer ball at it once!" Imagine that. That finicky window had the nerve to break after being hit only once by a fast flying soccer ball being kicked. What are the odds of that happening, really? It was just dumb luck, after all. That 25 year old window surely shouldn't have dared to crack, much less break. Both panes, no less. Maybe if it was tempered it wouldn't have broken.

Did you know that my boys don't have a big interest in playing baseball? You would have thought that surely one of their foul balls would have found its way through a window of the house at some point while they played in the yard. It just goes to show that soccer balls can do just as much damage, if not more. Bigger ball, bigger hole. Simple.

I'm sure the temporary band-aid wil give the home lovely curb appeal until the window gets replaced. With tempered glass, of course.