If you looked up difficult in the dictionary, there's a good chance it says "getting z motivated and ready for school in the morning"
But yesterday he magically woke up without crying! Then he ate his breakfast! And he was so excited that he ran to the kitchen where I was making lunches, bowl in hand. A glass bowl. As he ran he was twisting the bowl with pride, showing me the emptiness of it. And then, like a missile, it shot from his hands ( that's why we don't run with bowls!) bounced off the cabinet, ricocheted and slammed into the side of my ankle so hard that I screamed loud enough that the teen in my upstairs bathroom checked to see if I was ok. I truly thought my ankle was broken.
There is a dent there, where my bone used to stick out. That's what passes for a good morning here. Kid you not. This is the bowl that attacked me. Not even a dent. Unlike my ankle .