William, who seems to have inherited my lack of finger dexterity, has taken an interest in cutting. I’d be excited if he was cutting paper. But he’s not. He’s cutting clothes.
Here’s the conversation we had a week ago.
“What happened to your shirt?” I asked, holding up his favorite back-to-school top.
“I cut it.”
“You cut it?”
“Yes.”
“At school or at home?”
“School.”
“Was it on purpose or by accident?”
“On purpose.”
“Why did you do it?
Silence.
“Were you bored? Angry? Curious?”
He processed this multiple choice question for a while. “Bored,” he chose.
More recently, he’s progressed regressed to cutting pants. I noticed this while I was folding the laundry yesterday.
“William,” I said, holding up the evidence. “Can you stop cutting your clothes?”
“Okay,” he agreed. “But last time I didn’t cut my clothes.”
I paused, trying to figure out what he meant. “What did you cut?” I asked.
“My hair.”
“You what?”
“I cut my hair,” he said. “Here.” He pointed to his bangs. I observed a jaggedy bang.
“William!” I said. “Scissors are for paper.”
“No they’re not,” answered Vivian. “Miss B cuts our hair with them.”
“Okay, they’re also for professionals to cut your hair.”
“What are professionals?” Vivian asks.
“Never mind.” I breathed deeply, trying to send some oxygen to my aging brain cells. “William?” I continued. “No cutting anything but paper with scissors, okay?”
“Okay,” he answered and wandered off to play with his Transformer.
The score: Scissors 3, Mending Pile 2, Mommy 0
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Any scissor stories out there?
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The winners of my 100th post jewelry giveaway are Commenter #15 , karmavore ( who will receive a sloane enamel bangle) and Commenter #24, Jen (who wins delicate drop earrings). Thanks to all who commented and to Lauren Davis, an independent stylist with Stella and Dot Jewelry, for donating the beautiful pieces.
Doesn’t every kid cut their hair for picture day? I have a school picture of my brother with a very interesting hair cut. He wanted to look good for picture day so he personally gave himself a haircut. I remember Mom being so upset with him.
He’s creative (well, it’s easy to say that when it’s not your own kid the day before picture day!)
At least he’s cutting his own hair. My older daughter, at about 3 and a half, cut her younger sister’s hair. Mama was not pleased. She had just learned how to use scissors, and I took them away from her for a week.
Yikes! I guess that’s a benefit of having twins (maybe). Sometimes the experimental stage is bloody annoying!
I came home from a conference one day to my daughter sporting a mullet – full on Achy Breaky Heart style! The only positive was that her self-haircut was done on my husband’s watch and not mine! 🙂
Love your blog,
Amy
What is it they say about mullets: business in the front; party in the back? Too bad it’s not the 80s. I had a pretty nice mullet in Grade 7…
our house the score is:
scissors 8
mending pile 1 (my MEC jacket)
Beaners for haircut repair 2
rag bin 3
…. it could be worse.. right?
Great blog!
Joy
Thanks, Joy. We’re a Beaners family, too. I am thankful we haven’t been there for any emergencies (except a bad case of cradle cap that took a few years to clear). I need to fly my mom out to do my mending…Maybe we could start a support group: Mending for Mothers?
I love this, and I believe you may have landed my favorite Thing 2 photo so far. I vaguely remember scissors making an appearance between Magic Markers and fire. We had a big hole in our couch from a phase when a certain 5 year old managed to get a hold of a lighter. Turns out that Scotch Guard stuff isn’t so tough.
Fire? Ugh. Don’t even say! And your couch (and house) survived? I’ve already taught my twins to “stop, drop and roll” (as the fire safety video of my childhood instructed); I believe they think it’s a dog trick, however.
My sister (10 years junior) cut up my passport when I was 15. Oddly, my 3 kids have not (yet) taken to destruction-by-way-of-the-scissors! Or wanton use of lipstick – my sister’s other obsession-du-jour (of the time).
Your passport? And those aren’t easy to cut, either (not that I’ve tried recently). The lipstick thing could be nightmarish; my twins think Blistex is lipstick. Sad but true.
Hi Leanne,
Here is Mazdak’s version of the story:
His experience with scissors started with his craft making obsession, and quickly replaced it as the new obsession: the pure joy of cutting, without any practical purpose. Last summer, Parand pointed at a cut, half way through the plastic flesh of my trendy Swatch brand watch’s strap. I was known with my careless treat of my belongings and I have been accused many times before for the fast wear and tear of my shoes, pants, jackets, etc. However, my embarrassment was more related to the fact that I couldn’t remember the accident caused the damage – like all those bruises on my shins that seem to have come from nowhere. However, the neatness of the cut was so peculiar; it didn’t look like an accident. A few weeks later, I was still thinking about it and mentioned it again to Parand at dinner table, this time at Mazdak’s presence. It took him a few minutes to think before changing the next subject to confess:
– Daddy! I have to tell you something… I cut your watch strap.
– How? … When? … Why Mazdak, why did you do that?
– I don’t know… There was the scissors on the table, and there was the watch, and I had to cut something. I couldn’t help it… Is that OK?
We stared at each other speechless for a few seconds and then started to laugh. Especially I, who was relieved from the anxiety caused by early symptoms of short-term memory loss.
That had me laughing out loud, Amir. Mazdak is perfectly logical, isn’t he? A (the scissors) + B (the watch) = C (cutting the watch strap). He’s brilliant! Thanks for taking the time to comment!