Concentration

McKay has discovered scissors. He doesn't know they're called scissors, though. He just says, "Mommy? Cut. Cut paper, Mommy." Luckily, we have plenty of child-friendly, rounded-tip scissors at our house. We also have plenty of scratch paper that I'm willing to donate to his cause.

Little side note: When we lived and taught in Owyhee, my students there never called them scissors. It was a scissor. They would ask me for a scissor, or ask if they could borrow my scissor. And they would ask, "Why do you say scissors like there's more than one? It's just one. A scissor."

Now that I've typed the word scissor ten times, I'm not even sure I'm still spelling it right. It suddenly looks strange.

So the other night, McKay is sitting at the bar in the kitchen with his new method of entertainment and a fresh piece of paper.

I don't mind the cutting because he will sit still for a good twenty minutes. It's like heaven. And he is so focused on chopping up that piece of paper.

He cuts with both hands. Using one hand on the scissors does not produce as large of a cut. Two hands makes for big cuts. And for some reason, cutting with his mouth closed is akin to putting mascara on with your mouth closed (which, by the way, I can do).

Check out that tongue!

Close-up of that cute tongue. He doesn't even know I'm taking pictures! Usually when the camera comes out, McKay holds still, smiles, and says, "Cheese!" Not right now, though. He is so focused on cutting.


He put the scissors away and got out the handbroom and dustpan. "Clean up, Mommy. Sweep."

This is the part where I fell in love with my baby all over again.