Faulty Physics

In the garage with my back turned I hear the shatter and spin around. Shards of porcelain on the ground. Questions were asked, nothing was learned. My 4-year-old stood there, With a plastered smile and averted eyes. He was guilty but proof was the real prize. I had nothing but accusations to bare. "You dropped it," I muttered. "No I didn't," he asserted. "It dropped itself," he blurted. To the broom I puttered With faulty physics to blame. I swept up the pieces as well all Floated up, up, up Into the rain.