Two anecdotes
When I was a kid, I used to run around barefoot all the time, playing outside. We couldn't afford but one pair of shoes a year, so no use in wearing them out when I wasn't in school.

So, I figured, no sense in putting on socks and shoes to check the mail yesterday. We have the community mail carrel four houses down, so it'd be just a short jaunt there and back.

I'm hoping the burn blisters on my feet heal well enough to teach tomorrow.

-=-=-

My son woke us up this morning with a cookie in his mouth. Which perplexed us.

My wife bought a package of Mrs. Fields individually wrapped cookies, ate one, and thought they were bad. However, Mikie eats everything, so we give them to him every once in a while. Last night the bag had three left.

This morning, my son was chomping a cookie, goading us to get up.

My wife asks, "What are you eating?"

"A cookie."

"Where did you get it?"

"The bag."

"How did you open it?"

"Scissors."

Immediately, both of us sprang out of bed to check the damage.

In the kitchen trash, an open cookie package, with several slash marks. No bag of cookies, no scissors, and Miguel's telltale stool by the utility drawer holding one less pair of large scissors than it did last.

In his bedroom, the bag of cookies (with two remaining, still wrapped) and an orange-handled pair of scissors.

So, my son apparently knows both how to use scissors and where they are located.

Inside, I'm proud of my problem-solving son. Outside, it's pow-pow time. Because he knows he's not supposed to touch scissors.

~MP