I hear my son rummaging in the kitchen.
"Where are the big scissors?" he asks of his Daddy.
"Uh, looks like Mama has them on her desk."
Trev comes in. "I need the big scissors to cut this." He has a popsicle.
The scissors he is seeking are the big orange handled variety - once sewing scissors and very sharp.
"Why do you need these? I've showed you how to poke the hole in it and squeeze the popsicle out."
"There's more than one way to do it, Mom," he tells me.
You have me there, Son.
Mama hands over the big scissors.