Fin

At the library recently, I lost the valdiated parking ticket. This usually means paying something like $5 instead of $.75. I was frantically searching the van, realizing I had dropped it somewhere in the library or parking garage, and it wasn't going to be easy to track down. Finley, sensing my frustration and panic said, "It's alright, Mom. We'll deal with it later."

Last Sunday, Chris was mowing the yard, and he rode by on the mower, Finley called out to him, "You're doing a good job mowing the yard!" Later, as I was pulling weeds, she told me I was "doing a good job pulling weeds."

One day this week, Our neighbor's granddaughter came over to play. She is a year older than Finley. She wanted to bring her tricycle over to our driveway, even though we have one just like it she could ride. She wanted me to carry it over, but instead, told her if she wanted it, she would have to ride and/or drag it through the grass to our place... which she did. Later, Melissa's dad came to pick her up, and ignoring the fact that her tricycle was still there, left. Finley saw that Melissa had left her tricycle, and wanted to get it back to her. I told her that if Melissa wanted it, Melissa could come and get it. Finley insisted on dragging it back over to our neighbor's, even though it was much harder for her to move the thing through the grass tha it was for Melissa. I was so impressed with Finley's desire and determination to get the trike back to the person it belonged to, that I offered to help when I saw that she was struggling a bit. She refused my help, and got it back to the neighbor's driveway, even putting it in the same spot that Melissa 'parks' it.

Finley has been wanting her own scissors. I told her that she needed to remind me when we were at a store, half hoping that she would forget. At the grocery store, she spotted some, so I had to fulfill my promise to her and get her a pair. Remembering the frustration of those kiddie 'safety scissors' that can hardly cut anything, I opted for a decent small pair. When we got home, I remembered to tell her not to stick her fingers between the blades, not run with them, and not play with them while walking. Thinking I had covered all the bases, I gave her a sheet of paper, and let her go at it. A while later, she ran over to tell me, "I can cut my hair with these scissors!" "Yes, you could, but only Mama is allowed to cut your hair. Do not cut your own hair with your scissors... Or Joes." I was thankful that she had brought the possibilty to my attention before any damage was done. It was a few minutes later that I went in to inspect her progress that I realized she meant she HAD been able to cut her hair with her scissors. A careful inspection revealed a few locks of her bangs had been severed. Thankfully, she cut them about eyebrow level, and only gave herself a slighlty layered look that no one will notice. Today, she wanted to 'cut shapes' again. Once again, when I wasn't looking, she cut some hair. Hopefully, the threat of losing scissor priviledges altogether will prevent further hair cuts. I am worried that I might end up with a short-haired girl.