This post was inspired by Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop. The prompt was to tell about a time you got in big trouble as a kid. I, however, am going to tell you about a time I THOUGHT I was going to get in big trouble.
Everyone had these, right? The safety scissors that weren’t supposed to cut anything but paper so you couldn’t hurt yourself? I had them too.
One night my mom set me up at my little kid sized table in the kitchen and she drew some shapes on construction paper and told me to cut them out. She then went into the next room to sit down and watch tv with my step-dad (although I don’t think they were married yet at this point. It’s irrelevant really). We’ll call this a big old mom fail on her part.
I cut out all of my shapes and asked if she would come and draw some more. She said she would be in in a minute.
Have you ever kept a 5 year old waiting? It doesn’t usually end well. This didn’t either. After what seemed like two hours of sitting there waiting (but was probably only 5 minutes) I started to wonder if the scissors that supposedly only cut my construction paper would cut other things. Like my shirt. I tried a tiny snip and they got stuck, but didn’t really do much damage to my shirt.
Now I was thinking that they really DID only cut paper, so I got more adventurous. Did they cut shoes? Nope. How about the table? No, the table wasn’t cut either. How about hair? Uh oh. They did cut hair!
I panicked! I have always loved my long hair, and I was sort of devastated that I had this short piece hanging in my face. What I was really worried about, however, was the fact that MY MOM WAS COMING IN THE ROOM ANY MINUTE! How did I reattach the hair to my head? What would I tell her? What would my punishment be? Would I have to go to bed right this instant? Would I have to do something horrible-like dust?
I gathered all of the hair up in my hand and decided to take a proactive approach. I calmly walked into the living room and handed the hair to my mother. Her jaw dropped and I said, “Here mommy, this fell out!” As far as I can remember, this is the first lie I ever told.
This was it. The moment that would decide my fate. Would I be sent off to boarding school? Grounded until I was 30? It took my mom what seemed like an hour to respond. When she finally did, her reaction was completely unexpected. While I stood there practically shaking, my mother started to laugh. So did my step-dad. Not only were they laughing, they were laughing so hard my mom had tears running down her face.
I didn’t laugh. I burst into tears. Turns out she was onto me all along and didn’t believe that my hair had just gotten sick of hanging off my head and jumped off. I was caught, and surely once the laughter stopped I would get in big, big trouble! Instead, she called my grandma and laughed some more.
Nobody tell her, but she STILL hasn’t punished me for this incident 23 years ago! My punishment now, however, is that whenever there are scissors in sight she tells anyone that will listen the story of my hair falling off. I may never live this down!
(In case you’re curious, all that had to be done to correct this problem was to cut some bangs in my hair. I got lucky, as some kids nearly scalp themselves!)