You could poke somebody's eye out!

I use scissors on an almost daily basis. I keep them right here to my left where I can reach up without much paying attention and have them 'in hand' immediately. So the other day, I reach up for my scissors and they are gone...again. I scream wildly in the direction of the hallway "WHO TOOK MY SCISSORS?!!" And from that general direction I heard back "NOT ME!" "IT WASN'T ME EITHER". Baloney you say. Little liars. I'm almost certain that these thieving liars are not the product of my parenting skills. I can't think of anyone else to blame though. Maybe the public school system?


So, this little episode reminded me of the "good hair cutting scissors" that were the express property of my mother. These scissors were used to cut the bangs of the three red haired girls that also belonged to her. I'm not saying it ever came out well, I'm just saying that's what they were for. They lived in a drawer in the kitchen and we were forbidden to touch them because they were mama's "good hair cutting scissors" and she didn't want us using them for ANYTHING else because she didn't want them getting dull. Now, when I was looking for some scissors and I couldn't find any handy, the kitchen drawer just called to me. I knew it was risky. I knew I was taking my life into my own hands, but there were moments when I used those scissors to cut paper. Surely, surely I was never stupid enough to remove them from the kitchen but I do vividly remember the yelling, "WHO TOOK MY GOOD HAIR CUTTING SCISSORS?!!" And the triple chime of "IT WASN'T ME" in return. It probably wasn't me for real.

I told Larry that on his next trip to wherever it was he went to get me stuff to please bring me a new pair of scissors, which he did. I showed them to the ruffians and told them not to touch them or they would die a horrible early death. I've caught them both at least once with my new scissors in their hands and they both turned four shades of purple before all the blood drained out of their face and left them ghostly pale. Oh man. I have turned into my mama. They still better keep their grubby little hands off my new scissors.