Breaking the Bank

Babyproofing is such a process. Just about the time I think we're "safe", she fools me. We're lucky overall. Despite the "terrible twos" that are bearing down upon us like a roaring storm, her incessant busy-ness does not typically have destructive outcomes. Which is why I was surprised when she went into our master closet, of all places, and managed to wrestle my treasured piggy bank to the ground. How she managed to coax it off the shelf I'll never know. It seemed too high for her reach, and certainly impossibly heavy for her to move.

Or not. Nothing is impossible when you're almost two. When you're almost two, you can perform daring feats of wonder all day long simply to entertain (and test) those who live with you. When you're almost two, you can travel from the kitchen where Mommy is cooking to the master bedroom closet at the speed of light. When you're almost two, you can climb with the finesse of a spider monkey. When you're almost two, you're terrifically cute and a tiny bit terrible, all at the same time.

I'm so thankful that the pig did not hurt Emma. It could have come crashing down on her little foot, or worse yet, hit her in the head. She was fine, and that is the most important thing. However, my precious little piggy -- my penny pot, my personal finance porker, did not fare so well.

My Oma's sister gave that pig to me when I was a little girl. She made it in a ceramics class. Piggy had a friendly little face, and the cutest heart on her hip with my name written in it, like a little piggy tattoo. She was big and fat and had a latch on her belly to spill out the riches when she got full. I always had piggy in my room growing up, and ever since I got married she has taken up residence on a shelf in our closet. Every night we feed our spare change to her, and over time it really adds up! Every few years we empty the pig and earmark the savings for something really special. A few summers ago, we used pig's potbelly to fund a trip from Silverton to Durango, Colorado aboard the Narrow Gauge Railroad during our family vacation.

Piggy has always been there, smiling happily from her little shelf and waiting patiently to receive that day's offerings. Now piggy has retired from banking altogether and has gone to the big pigpen in the sky. Or to the recycle bin in my alley.

A little finger got cut on the sharp ceramics. Ouch! We needed our very first band-aid.

Band-aids are scary. We don't like them. Not one little bit.

There was sadness. And tears.

I think she'll miss piggy too.