So, I came upon this last Sunday morning. A broken piggy bank, pennies all over the floor, and a little girl with her face buried in her pillow crying hysterically because she was sure she'd be in trouble for breaking her piggy. Once I got her quieted down enough to figure out what had happened, she told me she had been getting clothes out of her dresser for church and the piggy came out of the drawer with the pants and fell on the floor. I couldn't get mad at her because the piggy was in the drawer for moving purposes and hadn't been taken out yet and I was the one who had put it in there to begin with. We cleaned the mess up, thankfully before her brother was out of his bed or he'd have been right there in the middle of it eating porcelain shards because they crunch. I've gotta say. . . there's something absolutely heartbreaking about a tiny broken piggy bank. We'll have to think of another place to store her beloved pennies.
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