Running with scissors...

Due to our impending move, I have investigated the requirements to move my angel from one school to the next. Apparently, all she requires is to have been born at least 5 years ago and be up to date on her shots. I thought there'd be more to it than that. Her new school will contact her old school to have her transcript sent over. Transcript? Really? It's Kindergarten. What could that possibly contain? Knows her letters...A. Knows her colors...A. Cuts a straight line...C+. My angel seems to be struggling with that concept. (A skill her mother has yet to fully master!)

Her Preschool teacher informed us of this deficiency in our parenting. She explained that my angel didn't know how to use scissors, in fact, she didn't even know how to hold them. Almost as if she had never held a pair before! (Pause for embarrassed laughter) I calmly explained that it had honestly never occurred to me to place a pair of scissors in my four-year-old's hand. Her age not withstanding, my angel comes from a long line of scissor-abusers.

Brother #1, as a small child, took a large (and thank goodness, plastic handled) pair of scissors and cut the cord of a running fan, resulting in a tripped breaker, a useless fan, and a rather large notch in the scissors. (This little incident occurred in the pre-autumndaesy era, so I can cheerfully claim zero blame for this!)

Brother #2, after I purchased a brand-new sleeping bag for him, (so new I was in the process of removing the tags) cut a large snip in the nylon. Why? I asked. Shoulder shrug was his four-year-old answer.

Not to be left out, the husband is just as big a scissor offender. (Probably bigger, as the boys were toddlers and he was a grown man acting like a toddler.) One day, while the cat annoyingly batted at the cord to the window blinds, the husband snapped, grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the cord high enough that the cat couldn't reach it. Through his red haze of fury, it escaped his notice that the blinds were raised almost to the top, and with a shorter cord, they won't go down all the way. (I quickly informed him of this miscalculation.)

Because of all these reasons, my angel had in fact not held a pair of scissors until her preschool teacher handed them to her. Not wanting her to fall behind, the husband and I bought her a pair of safety scissors for her desk. She may have broken the curse, as the only thing she cuts with them is paper. In fact I frequently have to use her scissors, as I can never seem to remember where I have so cleverly hidden all the other pairs around here...