For Christmas She sewed him a bag to carry his musical supplies in. He proudly carries it with him to all his practices.
One evening He came home from practice late and tired. He trudged the trumpet case, the supply bag, and his laptop case and a dripping umbrella up three flights of stairs. She was waiting at the top for him with their apartment door open. He stumbled into the living room and wearily divested himself of his burdens.
When He let go of the music bag, it slowly listed sideways then stopped at a precarious angle. He stared at it for a moment, then reached out and stood it upright. It slouched over again. Once more He set it upright, ordering it to, “Stay!” It did. He looked surprised.
“Hey,” She said. “Why are you surprised? Any bag I made for you would have to be obedient.”
He reached out and pulled her into a hug as He queried pointedly, “You mean like you are?”
She tried to look outraged, but cracked up laughing. “Well,” She said. “Maybe just a little bit better.”