“How am I perfect?” She asked in total disbelief.
I rolled my eyes. Another classic Isabel trait.
“You just are.” I smiled.
“Ouch.” She muttered distracted by the small cut on her finger.
“Here let me clean that.” I offered.
When I turned around to get a band-aid, I knocked over a bowl. The peices scattered all over the floor, alongside the remnents of the mug.
We both started laughing, but not just average laughing, the kind where its almost imposibble to breath, and as you’re gasping for air, ang clutching your side in pain, but you still cant make yourself stop.
“You really need to watch where you put your dishes.” She howled between laughter. I worshiped the movement.
“Ouch, ouch haha I cant stop haha laughing!” She shrieked.
Neither could I.
We both calmed down after a minute, but only long enough for her to throw a plate on the floor and start again.
On a whim, we broke every single piece of glass in my kitchen, and I didnt regret it at all.