Then her daddy showed her how he shaves.
Friday night I walked in on her trying to shave her own perfect little chin (no shaving needed). It resulted it two cuts, that given her behavior (and my knowledge of razors), were very painful.
I of course told her that she shouldn't have done that. But it was hard to find the words that taught her what to do without making it seem like it was her fault. Because it wasn't. But she had done something wrong, but it wasn't something she knew was wrong. That was the hard part, trying to tell a good hearted, hurt little girl that although she'd made a mistake, and should never do it again, that she was also without fault; those were words I didn't have.
As we finally got ready for her to sleep (after much weeping, wailing, and assorted sadness), she prayed. My sweet girl, who when she actually expresses her own thoughts in her prayers only gives thanks (thanks that I won't have any bad dreams), said "I'm sorry for using the shaver."
The shavers are out of reach. The cuts are not healed, but Kiddo's not thinking about them any more. But I'll be glad when they fully heal so I can not stare my failings in the face every day.
