This is what I come and see...
Julie in the dress I made for her to wear for Easter this past spring. Julie standing seriously in the living room. Julie itching her leg...through a jagged hole...cut into her dress.
"You cut her DRESS???" was something like what my response was. I'm sure there were no curse words, I save those for when I retell these stories to Paul.
The boy is quick with his response, "Mommy, Julie was ITCHY, I HAD to cut her dress to make ITCHY POCKETS so she could ITCH her ITCHIES...okaaaay Mommy?"
Julie chimes in. "Iss okay, Mommy, iss oookay," said with tender care, her eyes wide, like when I've gotten really frustrated and she is trying to talk me off the ledge before I explode.
It works. I say in a gentle voice, "Joseph, do we cut clothes?" His head hanging a bit, "No Mommy". "Can you say sorry?", our standard reply for wrong-doing.
All is well.
Until Julie says "Mommy, I need two itchy pockets, I itch over here," as she points to the opposite side from the original itchy pocket. Joseph goes right along with it, "Come on Mommy, pleeeease?"
The dress is already cut. These kids are using their best honed persuasive skills.
I give in with a "Joseph, you may cut another itchy pocket so there are two, but you may NEVER cut clothes again...after this."
I know. I caved. Who gives permission for their child to repeat such an offense?
I do. No disclaimers, no excuses. It's just how I roll to make it through the day.
Now here is documentation of Joe's LAST cutting of clothes that we wear...
I hope the producers of Shark Tank don't peruse this blog...Joe may be out millions for this ingenious idea.