Did you grow up in a house that had a pair of "good scissors"? The scissors that absolutely weren't to be just grabbed and used for any old thing? That lived in the sewing room? That required permission to be asked and interrogation made as to their exact intended use?
I did. But I never really understood.
The Moonlets had a craft attack yesterday after school, there were bits and pieces all over (and under) the table, projects akimbo and sticky tape everywhere. And then i saw one of them, with work in hand, turn to my sewing table and reach for my "good scissors"... I panicked and had to intervene. We had the talk.
And now i understand mum, i do. Good scissors indeed.
