Scissors

Troy came into the kitchen today and said, “Where is it?” I asked him what he was talking about, and he repeated the question, “Where is it?” Then, he added, “I need to fix it.” He walked straight to the last drawer in the kitchen, pulled out the scissors, and he said, “Ah, here they are!”

I immediately got concerned and told him to put the scissors back. He said, “I need to fix it, dada.” I asked him what he needed to fix, and he pointed to the string hanging from his sleeve. “That.” So, I took the scissors and cut the string. “Thank you, dada.”

I’m amazed that he recognized the string and that it needed to be removed. I’m amazed that he realized the tool he needed to accomplish the task was the scissors. I’m amazed that he knew where to find them, because he’d watched us get them. I’m amazed that he felt confident enough to try to use the scissors to cut the string off his shirt. He would have done it too, if not for the fact that it was up under his armpit and not conveniently located.