Monday, September 10, 2018

Pocketknives

We took a family vacation that lasted 17 days. Our internet was junky or nonexistent, and I’m not particularly enamored with my job right now, so I just turned my work email off. I had warned people before I left that I wouldn’t be available – and I wasn’t. That’s rare for me, because long ago when I moved to part-time, I made a deal with my boss that I’d be available on my days off if an emergency arose. Even though I’m full-time now, that habit is a hard one to break.

In any case, on day 8 of the trip, the children acquired pocket knives. The little one spent a car ride asking, from the backseat, for things she could cut. I sat in the front, muttering to her father “it’s on you to take her to the clinic when she cuts herself “. It was a good example of why having parents willing to take different risks is nice for kids. I would’ve just said “no” to the pocketknife. And in fact, when I was approached, I could tell some negotiations had already taken place, and I made the quick decision to let Ed be the bad guy. I told her to ask her father.

That was a huge mistake. Because while I see almost no benefit to having the contraptions and plenty of risk, he sees dreams fulfilled. How powerful is a girl wielding a pocketknife?

So far…not powerful enough to injure herself, but that bar of soap that crossed her path is full of regret!

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