Spilt milk.

At work we take daily trips to the local park. Each kid holds on to a ring on a rope, and we travel the 2 blocks with 20 kids, and 2 teachers.

I was at the end of the line with the day's 'caboose', Rebecca. Jacob, ring neighbor, was excited for his birthday cup cakes, planned for later that day, and repeated the word spaghetti, over, over, and over. Rebecca looked up to me and asked me to have him stop. There was little I could do, so I told her to think of something else, like I do, and soon all the 'noise' would fade away.

I was thinking off coffee and a croissant, so Rebecca picked chocolate milk to focus on. We walked a few steps and she began to cry. What could have happened? Rebecca looked up, so sad, and wailed: "I spilled my chocolate milk!"