Justified hubby stabbing by kid scissors

A couple of nights ago I was fixing a gourmet dinner (hey, I used the stovetop AND the oven) and big boy 4-year-old brings a piece of construction paper to me and asks if he can cut. He came home from school the previous week and showed me where he cut the sleeve of his shirt so I was a little hesitant. I went ahead and agreed, reminding him that we ONLY cut paper or we don't get to cut and if he cuts his clothes, he has to buy a new shirt with money from his piggy bank. Agreed.

Very shortly thereafter, little girl 2.5-year-old comes in and says "I cut?" I have a very hard time saying no to her unless it's something that is an obvious no like playing in traffic. I get a second set of kid scissors and a piece of paper and situate her at the little table 12 feet away from where the hubby is sitting on the couch with the baby. This is when the first problem occurs. I ASSume he is broken in enough as a parent of four that he will keep one eye on the cutting taking place while I put the finishing flourish (it's fancy, remember?) on dinner.

A few minutes later while cutting the kids' portions up for them, I hear the hubby exclaim to little girl, "You cut your hair?!" Are.You.Freaking.Kidding?! How does that even happen? Oh that's right, he was more concerned with the happenings on Facebook than his toddler with scissors. I can totally understand. He brings her around to the kitchen so I can assess the damage with a look on his face like I should be happy he brought her to me. Thank you, idiot, for not watching your child. Now let me stab you with her scissors to test their level of harmlessness that would cause you to not supervise her. I took her scissors while she jumped up and down and screamed at me about cutting. Yep, I'm totally the bad guy here. Damn you, hubby!

As I'm getting ready to take plates in to the kids, big boy brings me his cup asking for more milk and I see a funky spot in the top of his hair. I reach for it asking if he cut his hair and as he's saying yes, I see all the fine little pieces of his hair around the funky chunk. Nice...at least he needs a haircut anyway. By this time I REALLY want to stab my hubby but I decide my kids probably don't need to witness that.

After dinner as I'm clearing dishes, I take another look at big boy and see he's missing even more hair than I had originally noticed - he cut a chunk in the front of his hair too! Right on his cowlick making it less obvious. I look at my hubby and death glare him. Stab, stab, STAB!!! Thankfully, for the hubby, none of the hair is super noticeable and no injuries were sustained. Otherwise I may not have been able to contain my urge to demonstrate the "safety" of kid scissors. Those things are still really sharp, idiot! We both learned lessons that day. He that my violent tendencies lurk just beneath my calm exterior, and me that he is a total idiot who needs explicit instructions and probably a signed contract as well. I, the undersigned, will hereby watch my children under penalty of justified stabbing by my wife. Sounds good to me!

The carnage of The Great Hair Massacre can be seen above her left eye and his right eye.