So I'm in my bedroom putting away my clean laundry the other night, when all of a sudden an envelope slides across the floor and lands by my feet. I look down and see that it says, "To Mom Luv Will."

I know it can't be good when my 7-year-old son who is in the house with me is sending me notes. Obviously the correspondence was about something he didn't have the guts to tell me face to face.

I picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside was one of my monogrammed notecards, which he had retrieved from the room we use as an office.

I flipped open the note. In my little boy's childish scrawl was written: "I am sare for bacing my gasis. Luv Will."

Translation: "I am sorry for breaking my glasses. Love, Will."

Now, what you have to know is that this came on the heels of a $244 car repair and several other small but unexpected expenses. It had not been a good week, and the last thing I needed was to have to shell out another $150 to replace Will's glasses.

Even so, that little note cushioned the blow. It was so sweet, so heartfelt and so sincere.

He really was sorry.

I went into Will's bedroom, where he sat holding his spectacles, which were snapped in half at the nosepiece and obviously beyond repair. He lifted his big brown eyes to me and his bottom lip started to shake.

"It was an accident," he said.

I sat down on the bed next to him and put my arm around him.

"Of course it was," I said. "I know you wouldn't break your glasses on purpose."

He then related to me what had happened. He had been jumping about in his room, as boys do, and his glasses had flown off of his face. He took a step backwards, and his foot landed squarely on them.

Having worn glasses as a child myself -- and having broken a pair or two -- I really felt for Will. I know there is no worse sinking feeling than hearing the craaaccck of busting glasses.

My son is so sensitive about everything, and the broken glasses were no exception. When I told my 18-year-old daughter about it, she really put things into perspective. She reminded me that we had bought the cheapest frames we could, because they were Will's first glasses and we weren't sure how good he'd be about wearing them.

"He's really, really good about that," Dani pointed out. "He's kept those cheap frames for 10 months. You really kind of owe the kid new glasses anyway."

She had a point.

So Will got a shiny, new pair of glasses.

And having gone through the trauma of breaking the first pair, I'm sure he'll be extra careful with the new ones.

I hope, anyway.