You Have To Pay For That, Nana!

From the same trip Dec. 2004 that provided my birthday cake surprise:
Janelle and I decided to run to Hobby Lobby to pick up a few things to make Christmas ornaments with the kids. She put McKenzie in a carriage and went one way and I took Cj with me and went another way, in an effort to save time and energy.
Being 4-1/2, Cj was in especially good spirits about having Nana with him and was being a bit boisterous. Not bad - staying right with me, but skipping and singing and swinging all his limbs in different directions at the same time. (How do they do that?) This was fine until we proceeded down the aisle with fragile objects to left and right.
I calmly but firmly lectured him on walking properly, keeping his arms at his side and slowing down before he broke something. He politely responded, "Okay, Nana" and continued on his way, his merriment still being expressed by legs and arms flailing about. I stopped, repeated said lecture with the added ending of, ". . . or we'll go sit in the van and wait for Mom and Kenz." These words were just passing my lips when I swung my right arm to the side (that damnable Italian "talking with my hands" thing!!) and knocked a small chest with 12 ceramic drawers in it to the concrete floor.
As the sound of splintering ceramic was still reverberating through the store, Cj looked at me and said, "You have to pay for that now Nana. Mom says when I break something in the store I have to give them all my big monies (quarters for those of you who don't speak 4-1/2 year old) to pay for it."
I returned home tonight with a bag of broken ceramic that I paid $25.00 for. (Thank God it was on sale for 1/2 price or I'd be $50.00 poorer instead of $25.00.)