Gathering the eggs everyday was one of my chores when I was a young girl.
It used to be one of my favorite times of the day as I would get one of our old empty peanut butter pails and head out to the barn. The chickens would cluck softly as I entered their pen to search for their eggs.
On this particular day I had gathered the eggs, the pail was almost three quarters full and I was meandering my way back across the pasture to the house slowly. For some reason I was contemplating a story I had read recently of a young girl who had a pail of eggs and she tried to swing it around in a wide circle without losing any of the eggs, and had not been successful.
I had already tried it with a pail of water, and it had all remained inside the pail. Only a few evenings ago when I had been talking about the science behind it all to Dad as we were doing the evening chores he had done it successfully with a pail of milk.
I was sure that girl in the book must have done something wrong, so without further thought I swung that pail up and around as fast as I could, but then things went horribly wrong. Instead of staying in the pail as the water and milk had, the eggs went flying and broke where ever they landed.
I stared in dismay at the mess I had created, and then headed on to the house. We had plenty of eggs, if I didn't mention what happened Mom would never know. There was no such luck though. She had seen the entire thing happen, and when I stepped into the kitchen she simply said "I guess you probably don't want to try that again."
She was right. I have never tried that again.