My oldest daughter is a huge fan of hot coffee and tea, and a huge fan of vintage stuff. Our family lurks around antique stores a lot on our beach/camping weekends, because we're cool like that, and on one of these rambles, she found a vintage, ceramic Starbuck's coffee mug in perfect condition. Of course she grabbed it because OH YES IT WAS THAT AWESOME.
It's like the holy grail of cups at our house. No one touches it but her. When I wash it, I put it caaaarefully to dry and then caaaarefully find a spot in the cabinet for it, because there is probably not another one anywhere on the planet and why is this even IN the cabinet when it should be in the antique-dishes-glass-fronted cabinet-thingee where no one can touch it?
Anyhoo--Recently we had company, and one of them was walking out the door to go home in the morning, and he was actually carrying her Starbuck's mug as he headed for the door, like, "Well--See ya." I wasn't awake, because I try not to be out of bed before 9 in the summer (it's sort of a rule), but my husband is much more alert to that kind of stuff, so he stopped him and made him dump the coffee out, and Put. The. Cup. Down.
My younger daughter and I shared a laugh over it afterwards, because this kind of stuff happens a lot in our family. But for some reason, when I explained how the conversation went, I made it sound like this:
"...So then Dad said, 'Do NOT leave here with that cup. If you take that cup and break it, my daughter will hunt you down and kill you, and she will glue the broken pieces of that cup back together with the molecules of your soul.' "
Ahh...family. *wipes a tear* What good are we, if we can't embroider a story now and then?