I think I forgot to tell you that Daddy-O and JiJi got me a new pink pocketknife for my birthday. It was a happy moment. Ain’t it purty?
I’ve toted it around in my purse proudly for a few months but have only had a couple of chances to use it so when Christmas rolled around, I was pretty stoked. See, we are a family that likes ourselves the ribbon. We enjoy twisting that curling ribbon all around the package and tying it as tight as we can. It makes the packages look more festive. We are also a family that enjoys ourselves some tape. We like taping the gift boxes shut and also all the seams of the wrapping paper so that finding a finger hold to rip the paper off is nearly impossible. But the packages look pretty and that is what is important.
When Coach was opening his first package and having some difficulty, I ran to my purse to get my pocketknife. “Here,” I offered, “you can use my pocketknife.”
Coach looked at me with horror. “No,” he hollered. “You put that away! You’ll hurt yourself!”
And then Martie said when I offered it to her, “No, I’m good! I’ve got this, see?” And she sawed away at the tape with her nail.
Daddy-O said, “Lord, go get some Kleenex before you bleed all over the couch!”
Poppa whipped out his own pocketknife and sneered at my tiny little pink one as he expertly flicked his open and sliced through the ribbon.
Madre let me open my knife and use it on one of her gifts but when I had a brain cramp for a minute and couldn’t remember how to close it, Coach took it away from me and stuffed it down between the couch cushions.
I got my knife back and will have you know that all my fingers remain intact. I don’t even know why you worry. I am excellent with sharp things. Except for this one time. Geez, bunch of worry warts.
