Dinnertime. Hartley House. Earlier this week.

Hayden: Daddy, can I have my juice?

Daddy: Sure, here you go.

Daddy hands Hayden his drink. Hayden reaches out to grab it, his hand making contact with the cup. Instead of grasping it, he accidentally hits it, and it flies — quite forcefully — across the table and onto the floor.

Daddy (looking at Mommy) says, “We’re definitely not ready to give up the sippy cup.”

I almost panicked. Give up the sippy cup? That’s an option? Not with my clumsy genes already affecting the way my children walk, run, dance ... and drink. I hadn’t even thought of phasing them out, even if that means my children are the only ones raising Lightning McQueen and Tow Mater sippys for their wedding toasts.

Sure, I’ve ventured out a few times without a lid, but most often those journeys end with gargling contests (if you can fit just a little water in your mouth, why not make bubbles in your throat with all of it?) and naturally, most of the liquid ends up all over someone or something.

I’m just not ready to part with the sippy yet. It would be like losing a reliable companion, a best friend who keeps my kids nourished and their shirts (fairly) clean.

Oh sippy cup, how I love you so. The way you keep all the juice in one place. The way you hide under the couch, only to alert me to your presence three months later with your rancid dairy stench. How I love the way you play hide and seek with your stoppers in the dishwasher.

The way you disappear in public and on playdates never to be seen again.

How you entice me with your many designs, shapes, colors and lid-and-stopper combos.

How you confuse my husband with your many designs, shapes, colors and lid-and-stopper combos.

How you crowd my pantry/laundry closet, sending many lids into near extinction behind the washing machine.

How you withstand being thrown against the wall, off the deck, at the windshield. How you betray me with your lesser models in the $1 basket at Wal-Mart.

How you choose not to leak on my floors at home, instead soaking the insides of diaper bags and purses, the seats in my car and the light-colored carpets of others.

Oh, my beloved sippy, from the poodle circus to the elephants flying airplanes, I’m just not ready to see you go. Please say you’ll stay, keeping my floors dry ... just a little longer?