When you hear, "fun with tape and scissors," I'm sure you generally think of arts and crafts, fun activities, maybe the kids made something cute and festive? Well, you're WRONG!
In my house, tape and scissors are used creatively/inappropriately. First, Morgan was cutting a piece of paper with safety scissors in her room. (Yes, I know. I left her all alone with safety scissors. Not like I'm winning parent of the year anytime soon). So picture this...Avery is mid 10th tantrum of the day on the floor, Dan is on the sofa in the family room, and I 'm in the kitchen wondering if it's 5 o'clock somewhere as I watch Avery with a perplexed look on my face. Because she has to take a breath every now and then, Avery can only scream in spurts. (Thank goodness...but it's sort of like schizophrenia for the ears). Just as Avery takes a much needed breath, I hear a little voice call out with glee and joy from the top of the stairs, "Mommy, I cut my hair!"
While my initial reaction was, "Holy shit!" And all I could picture was my cousin Becky's bangs that I cut with pinking shears when we were little, and I mean jaggedy spikes all the way down to her forehead. I hesitantly turned around, caught a glimpse of Dan's face (also one of "Holy Shit!") then allowed my eyes to slowly, slowly, slowly assess the damage. I expected a bald child. And Lord knows her hair grows slowly enough as is! How was I going to explain this one to concerned strangers at the grocery store? We had her groomed? She donated it to Locks of Love? Her sister pulled it one too many times? She's got some random disease that leave her hairless and cold? Daddy's electric razor slipped?
I looked...
Me: Morgan, did you cut your hair?
Morgan: YEAH!
Me: Morgan, where did you cut it?
Morgan: Right here...see?
Me: No. I don't see. Are there little Morgan hairs all over your floor somewhere?
Morgan: No, I don't think so.
Well now I'm confused. Everything looks okay, even her hair. What the heck? I looked all over the place and I didn't see any hair. So now I guess my biggest problem is that my kid likes to tell fibs and scare the ever-loving-bejesus out of her "already one of questionable sanity" mother.
I guess things could be worse. Avery likes to repeatedly head-butt me. Hard. She laughs. I have that same befuddled look I do most of the time when it comes to the kids' behavior.
Now onto the tape. I'll keep this one brief...there was a brutal murder inside of my freezer and the fridge wasn't talking. The area had to be sealed off until backup could arrive...
I often say that Avery is weird. See photo...
And she is, but that's besides the point. Here you'll see Avery in one of her "less-weird" favorite activities. She LOVES baby dolls. I mean LOVES. She will spend hours arranging them, rocking them, putting blankets on them, feeding them, and saying, "Don't cry, baby. Don't cry." Even though she's one of the goofiest people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, she is also one of the sweetest...when she wants to be!
But I'll leave the final determination for you...
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