My boy stabbed himself...again.
I knew this was going to happen. The second he came to me with a new pencil and said "Mommy, can you sharpen this?" I had Deja Vu.
I sharpened the pencil. Not super spikey, but to a useful sharpness. Then I handed it to my son who took off for the kitchen with it up in the air like it was a paper airplane. "Pisssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
It occurred to me that I had just done something really stupid. Call it psychic ability, call it experience, but my boy + a sharp pencil = stabbing...of someone (...anyone really).
I know this because he's stabbed himself before. But, he wouldn't do it again. I mean...he learned his lesson, right? And at some point (no pun intended) you have to let go. You have to say "Yes, I know you've stabbed yourself before. But you're older now. Wiser. You won't do it again. You couldn't possiby..." Unless you're Ben.
I consider this and yell out "Be careful!" after him, like adding this disclaimer will absolve me of the responsibility and guilt I'll deservedly feel if he comes back impaled and crying.
Sure enough, not two minutes later, "OOWWW! (beat) Moooommmmmyyyy????? I stuck the point of a pencil under my nail when I was doing homework!"
I don't need to ask. The "How?" and "Why?" are obvious.
He's fine, but from now on we're doing homework with a ballpoint pen.
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