The youngest child is apparently having a Kindergarten heyday with the newfound freedom of scissors without supervision. And by supervision I mean hovering mother.
On Monday, he came home with two little slices in the neckline of his undershirt. At least he had the presence of mind to not cut his favorite Tony Romo jersey. I mentioned to him how disappointed I was, but didn't impress (on his rear end with my hand) upon him how disappointed I was, apparently.
Tuesday, at dinner, I noticed that there was a small slice in one of his better T-shirts, right on the belly. I was, to say the least, annoyed.
I sat on it a little while before I decided his punishment. And then the most evil plan of all hatched in my brain. I would make him wear a collared, buttoned shirt. To school. He hates those things. Backwards, you say? A little, but the idea of having to wear one of those every day until he can learn not to cut his clothing might just be what he needs to make the temptation go away. If we run out of collared buttoned shirts without cuts in them? He wears the ones with cuts in them.
BUT. I'm thinking that today will be the only day that he wears a "button shirt." I'll know in an hour. Or so.