I am in the kitchen cleaning. I can see the kids playing in the backyard. The sliding glass door is closed to keep the muggy hot air outside where it belongs.

I look up from my work to see Colin crouching on the patio and examining something. My gaze is redirected to a white and brown spot on the cement about the size of a golf ball. Alerts are sounding in my head as I nearly simultaneously 1. realize this is bird droppings and 2. notice Colin is extending a pudgy index finger toward the glistening smear 3. run across the kitchen 4. shout "Colin, NOOOOO!"

But he cannot hear me through the glass. Split seconds seem to pass as full minutes. Slow motion horror strikes as I'm dashing through the dining room, reaching for the door and see my pure, innocent baby dip and bring his once beautiful finger.....to his mouth.

A hair cut, and then another hair cut, and then one more

I quickly cut Audrey's bangs on Wednesday night after bathtime. When we were finished I lifted her off of my bathroom counter and I headed downstairs to take care of dinner dishes. I recall about halfway down the stairs thinking - "I should put those scissors away." But I was more intent on the kitchen and so I ignored the thought.

Fast forward 45 minutes. I discover long blonde locks littering my bathroom floor. I review in my head. I cut 1/4 inch of bangs. I left the scissors on the counter. I see 4 inch lengths of hair. A lot of them. I shout "AUDREY!!!!"

It wasn't pretty. She cut all of what she could reach on the sides and the back was left long. Like a mullet. On Thursday I took her to a friend's house who is a hairstylist. Much better. Audrey was very sad when she looked in the mirror and all her hair was gone. Maybe she will remember that feeling next time? Maybe I will put the scissors away too? She's better now. And I like her little fairy hair cut.