Avoiding The Snip


Some loud bangs in the kitchen alerted me to the fact my wife was looking for something.

“What you after?” I asked her.

She opened another draw, ferreted around in it a bit then slammed it shut and opened the one below it.

“Scissors,” she said.

I figured she mustn’t have had a great night’s sleep because there was a set right in front of her on the bench. Like the asshole of an anti-hero I am I sarcastically pointed them out to her and expected thanks.

I didn’t get it.

“Derrr,” she said, and checked out another draw. “I’ve already found those.”

What was missing from this exchange was context.

Lying in our bed this morning, enjoying a lazy non-school weekday slow start, fingers started playing with her hair.

“That’s nice,” she mumbled.

“You got nice hair, Mummy,” a small voice said. It was Miss3. As usual, she’d made her way into out bed for cuddles.

“Thanks, Darling,” said Tracey.

“I think I will cut it.”

Tracey opened an eye at this point, just to make sure there were no sharp implements in the bed with them. To her relief it was just a child with two fingers stuck out, pretending.

“Are you going to be a hairdresser when you grow up?” Tracey asked her.

“No,” said Miss3. “I’m going to be one now.” She jumped out of bed. “I’ll get the scissors.”

No longer attempting to lounge about, Tracey grabbed Miss3 and pulled her back for a little chat about careers. It’s never too early.

“Only adults are allow to cut hair,” she told our daughter.

“Okay,” Miss3 said. “I won’t cut any big people’s hair.”

So close.

“Anyone’s hair,” insisted Tracey. “You won’t cut anyone’s hair. Only big people are allowed to cut hair with scissors. You can pretend, with your fingers, but you can’t actually cut anything.”

“That’s right,” agreed Miss3. “I’m not allowed.” Finally! “Only if they needs it.”

Apparently this went on for a bit as Tracey tried to plug all the loopholes Miss3 was attempting to exploit. And while Tracey is fairly confident she got the message across she is taking no chances.

And since I was lying beside Tracey through this entire conversation and didn’t hear a word because I just don’t wake up when kids come in the bedroom, I bloody well joined her looking for as many pairs of scissors as we could find.

Most worryingly, I know we've got more than this...
Most worryingly, I know we’ve got more than this…


 ~ raising a family on little more than laughs ~


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