Scissor Scandal

This morning Dawson hopped out of my bathroom, scissors in hand and smile on his face.

"What have you been up to?" I inquired suspiciously.

"I'm cutting things," he answered as he happily bounced away.

I walked into the bathroom to find one big chunk of Dawson-colored hair on my counter. I then immediately turned around to find Dawson and survey the damage. "Dawson!" I said in a tone only a mother can muster.

He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me with his big, blue, totally guilty eyes. "Do you know why you're in trouble?" began my inquisition.

There was a pause while his eyes grew even larger. "Umm...because I cut things?"

"What are you allowed to cut?"

"Paper," he honestly admitted.

"And...” I asked already knowing the answer, "what did you just cut?"

Oh the horror of it all! I could feel his fear but also his awe at how I could possibly know what he had done. He gave in immediately. "My hair," was his honest admittance.

It was a moment of many emotions for me. It was difficult not to burst into laughter at his utter plea for help. It was - and I hate to admit this - a little fun to be the all-knowing force in the situation. It was tough...so very tough to have to be the one to deal with the whole situation.

Such is the life of a parent…and the slightly scalped little boy.