Disturbing, To Say the Least

I have a bowl of knives in my den. Saltshaker and pepper mill, too.

This is another one that wasn't in the brochures when the artist formerly known as Frau Lobster and I were looking at the baby-making hobby.



Mo loves stuffed animals, loves in fact to go to bed buried in them. But she worries at their tags and has a history of cutting them up when she can get her hands on sharps.

She gets in trouble for it, but sooner or later, you let your guard down and she finds scissors or a steak knife and Tigger gets decapitated.



I'm tucking Mo in tonight, and she asked me in startlingly clear words and sentences, 'I want a knife, please.' When I asked what she wanted the knife for, 'I want the knife, please. Cut tag head off.'

What do you say? I said that wasn't a choice, we don't behead our buddies. They love us and when we cut their heads off they die and can't be buddies anymore.

'I want a knife.'

I have a Tupperware Thatsa Bowl I keep my knives and sharps in. Spatulas and other oversized items, too. It's in my den because I'm certain Mo will wake up in the night and seek the tools she needs to commit her little stuffed animal homicides. The pepper mill and saltshaker are included because this is the third saltshaker I've bought in a week because the kid keeps throwing them out.