caught

The scissors were missing.

We had just come home from the library and the kids were excited to get into the backpack we had just checked out containing materials all about pets. We headed into the kitchen, chatting the whole way. I opened the drawer while still talking to and looking at the kids. I needed to get the scissors out to cut the plastic ziptie that the library puts on the backpack so that no materials are removed from it until it arrives at the home of the person checking it out. I started to open the drawer and I saw Grace's eyes dart down toward the floor. When I looked over at the open drawer, the scissors were missing.

I looked back and forth from the little girl who was quietly staring at the floor to the boy who was still bouncing up and down talking about how awesome he had done on the baseball game on the library computer 15 minutes prior to this moment and completely oblivious to the fact that the scissors were missing.

My suspect was pretty easy to spot. She knew the green tray in the drawer was empty (well, except for the random assortment of scraps of paper and pens and paper clips and pens that don't write anymore...I could go on and on). And I was pretty sure she knew where I could find the item that belonged there.

We've always kept the scissors there, and, while I'd questioned whether I should put them higher before, I'd always convinced myself that if they were going to go after them, I'd rather they go after them from the ground than from perched atop a pile of mail on top of the counter after strategically placing a chair next to the counter so they could climb up there. Yes, maybe I'm my mother's daughter (she is the queen of the worst case scenario, but I am slowly earning my reign as princess...just wait for my circus post in a few days), but I have found items missing from on top of the fridge before, so I feel this decision was justified.

So, instead, since they are also too smart for child locks, we have always taught them which scissors were the "safe" scissors (the kids' craft scissors) and where those were kept (with the art supplies, easy to access) and which ones were off limits without the help of Mom or Dad.

I posed the question to both of them. That's when Sam stopped bouncing. He firmly stated, "Grace took them." The look on his face was his I-knew-she-was-doing-something-dangerous-but-I-couldn't-
bring-myself-to-tattle-until-you-asked-point-blank look, so I knew he was telling the truth. I looked at Grace, who still had her head down, but was peeking up at me to see my reaction. I held my anger (this is not the first time items have come up missing around here). I calmly asked her if she knew where I could find the scissors. She nodded and headed up to her room with me on her heels. She went right to her bed, crouched down, moved a basket of toys, and there, underneath a pile of doll clothes she had strategically placed, was the missing item. She handed them to me and I thanked her.

As we walked back downstairs to get back to the library materials, I had to ask her why she had scissors hidden in her room. Her response? "To open the fruit snacks that I hide for bedtime."

Stupid me.