Reading an entry about bowls earlier today and then reading about the wooden bowl, it's been on my heart to post my "bowl" story.
I love the old mixing bowls. I love the look and I actually use them for mixing. Last summer Grandma, my children and I all spent a day rummage saling. About the third stop, we discovered a treasure of antiques. They weren't going cheap, but they were in good shape and not priced too bad. I found a beautiful antique, blue, mixing bowl, with an ornate rim. A little steep at $10, but I really liked it and bought it. We wrapped it in old sweaters and put it in a bag, careful not to chip and to warn everyone to be careful when unwrapping it. Once home and all the packages in the house, you guessed it, the bowl was pulled out by the sweater and my son completely forgot there was a bowl in it. It hit the floor and broke into about 20 pieces. I admit I didn't handle it very well. I took up the pieces, placed them in the garbage and told my son it was okay. It was just a "thing", but please try to remember to be more careful. He knew I was sad and wanted to fix the bowl for me. I told him even if it was fixed I couldn't use it anymore, not to bother. Walking into the kitchen about half an hour later, there was my bowl. The pieces carefully put back together and glued in place. I started to cry. That bowl means more to me now than it ever could have otherwise. My son was so sorry for what he'd done, and I was so sorry for making him feel bad. He fixed it because he loves me. That bowl is sitting for all to see, in my kitchen.