Yeah, that’s right, I said “scissors.”
You’re nervous aren’t you?
You should be.
Emma started going to preschool here in Mississippi a couple of weeks ago. Her very first day of school she got in the car and said, “Momma, dey hab sizzors eby-way-are!”
Not, “Mommy, I made you a picture!” or “My teacher is so nice!” or “That boy was mean to me.” No-sir-ee.
They had scissors and she was allowed to touch them. Not only was she allowed to touch them but she was encouraged to play with them…to cut Play-Doh with them. It was the single most amazing experience of her life and she was beyond excited.
My friend Lizzie picked Emma up from school today, because Emma is totally in love with her and begged me not to come pick her up but to “Call Miz Wizzie and tell huh ‘you go get Emma in da stwoller,’ Mmm-kay, Momma?”
When Lizzie walked in my house and announced that Emma had “an accident” with her scissors, I assumed we were going to be sporting a crew cut for the next few months. But no, she attacked her dress instead…
phew, I get to fix the "hair-meets-school-sissors" all the time at work. I dread the day my little girl does it to herself. But, it's too bad about her dress. I hope you can fix it.
Ah, but you might want to go ahead and draft your next Emma-with-the-scissors post anyway. The hair cut will inevitably follow! 😉
Very good point Kimberly! But I bet her teacher will be paying closer attention next time Emma has scissors in her hands!
Hmmm at least the hair will grow back, but that dress looks pretty much done for. Why are scissors so appealing? Is it an inborn urge to deconstruct and destroy? Mine are into screw drivers now, and are showing a dangerous tendency to want to take stuff apart. I know they come by it honestly, because I still remember removing a switch-plate from the wall sometime before starting first grade. Ahh…memories.