The Cutting Wrench
Yesterday morning, I smiled as I typed a tweet:
My 2yo can’t remember the word “scissors,” so he calls them “the cutting wrench.”
“Could you open this with the cutting wrench, peez?!” 🙂
I’ve loved Littler J’s way of describing scissors since he first used it.
This morning, I snipped in two a paper wristband I’d been wearing before tossing it in the trash.
“Get the scissors out the trash can!” Littler J demanded.
“Oh, no, they’re not in the trash can,” I said as I pulled them out from behind the sink. “I just threw away my wristband.”
Satisfied, he turned his attention elsewhere as it dawned on me what he’d just said.
“Hon,” I called to my husband, a couple rooms away. “He just said ‘scissors!'”
“Noooooooooo!” Anthony called back.
Littler J may now know the correct word for scissors, but I’ll have–forever–the memory of giggling with a full heart each time he asked me to use “the cutting wrench.”