We went out to breakfast this morning, and were seated in a booth. When the end of the meal arrived, I scooted out of the booth, but instead of standing up when my butt hit the end of the naugahide, I kept scooting and ended up falling directly down onto my butt.

I had it in my mind that I was on a larger bench seat, and I made no effort to stand at all. Nope, I just slid right off the seat, landing with a dull thump on the floor next to a very surprised looking man.

To his credit, he looked concerned and offered me a hand. I stood up unassisted, grinned, and gathered my purse.

"Grace AND beauty. I have it all." I said, as I marched out of the restaurant. Once outside, I burst out into a fit of giggles that lasted until my husband finished paying the bill and joined me and the kids.

As we climbed into the van, I remembered something I meant to blog about earlier this week. My daughter's preschool sits at the junction of two long walkways. I was approaching the double doors on one path, while the dad of one of the other kids came jogging down the other.

He was in good form, upright, arms swinging compactly at his sides as he bounded down the path. There was a random scattering of other people walking in and out of the building, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that what happened next made our day.

One minute, we have jogging dad. The next minute, his toe must have hit a crack in the concrete or something, because he was suddenly flying through the air, almost horizontally, with arms flailing and legs sprawling out behind. He caught himself with his hands and chest, an inch before his chin would have connected with the pavement. He must have covered 20 feet with his top-speed wipeout.

He hit the ground, lay still for maybe five seconds, and then leaped to his feet and entered the building. As soon as the doors closed behind him, those of us outside the building immediately began howling with laughter. You just don't get to see grown men do those kind of playground sprawling crashes very often, and his reaction to it was so classic, too.

I entered the lobby and headed down the corridor to the classroom. The ladies behind the reception desk were wiping their eyes and muffling their own giggles. I caught up to the source of our merriment at the door of the preschool. We stood there, not making eye contact. I spoke casually, without looking at him.

"You okay, man?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." I controlled my twitching lips as best as I could, took delivery of my excited three-year-old, and made my way back to my van. As soon as the door closed, I lost it. I howled and pounded the steering wheel. And then I noticed Trips On Sneakers was loading his son into his car, parked right next to me. I waved, wiped away a few tears, and drove home.