A Tiny Seesaw

A shiny metal teaspoon was resting across the rim of a shallow white saucer on the low wooden stool. Cradling my wrapped cake snugly against my chest, I hopped up onto the seat to take a closer look. The spoon was balanced right along the ceramic curve, teetering ever so slightly in the quiet morning light. I paused, reached out with one paw, and gently pressed down on the slender handle. The rounded bowl lifted smoothly into the air with a bright, delicate clink, then dipped back down onto the rim when I eased my weight away. It tilted just like a tiny seesaw. My cake gave a soft, cheerful crinkle as I leaned forward to tip it once more.