Last week the boy got a Swiss Army knife and a Boy Scout knife card at a Webelos meeting, along with a class on proper knife use, care and safety. The card is to be carried at all scouting events at which the knife is carried; if a scoutmaster or older scout asks to see the knife card, and it is not produced, the knife can be confiscated till the end of the event. Say what you will about Boy Scouts, they seem to take knife safety seriously. As far as I can tell.
Then the boy found an old clementine box near the trash. I probably had put it in the trash but somehow it got out, which rendered it not trash. He dismantled the box.
Now he's whittling. He cut himself right off, so now he is wearing one of my tyvek gloves, which my husband' bought me from a cafeteria worker at his former employer. I cut myself a lot; or used to - a few months with the tyvek gloves and I find I don't cut myself anymore!
Anyway. Now our kitchen table is covered in little wood shavings. It's just everywhere. That is life with a boy who owns a knife, I guess.
Coincidentally, my girl has decided to try to be more graceful, so the background noise this morning is the sound of a book falling off her head as she walks around the house. Humming, of course. I don't think the humming adds to the gracefulness but try telling her that. Ooh, she just informed me she can walk down the stairs and scratch her heel with the book on her head. But do graceful women scratch their heels? Probably not, but try telling her that.
This is the life we chose. It must sound like a weird life to some people. A life with freedom to whittle and walk around with books on the head. Not all day, and not always first thing.
And not with good books. I told her to use a book we don't care about. So what did she choose? Of course: her grammar book.
UPDATE: She can now curtsey with the book on her head. The whittling moved to the living room floor so he could listen to me read aloud. (He can absorb an enormous amount of information from listening, even while whittling.) The wood shavings are just about all swept up. Life does go on.