I remember my first pocket knife. It made me feel mature somehow, and I still keep it in my jewelry box today. I don't know what purpose it served, but it was special, fun, and from my dad, and that's all that mattered.
Boy and Guys each bought a knife with their chore money the other day. Of course I was being mom and voicing my fears to dad. They'd only been asking since our trip to Yellowstone, and that was a LONG time ago. Dad won and gave them their knives. Boy's is a small Gerber (like dad's) and Guy's is a Swiss Army Knife. I gave them rules for being careful, lectures about it being a tool and not a toy, reminders of what was ok to cut and what was not, and warnings about what would get your knife chucked into the lake before you could even blink.
Takes me back to when my little brother did something that made my dad chuck his knife out the window while we were driving down a gravel road. It was very effective. So I shared that story with them and I am pretty sure it is still effective some 15 years later.
I watched them carefully spend time cutting grass and poking the ground with their knives before I decided it was safe to go in to make dinner. It wasn't long before Guys came barging in telling me I had to go see what she did. Ugh, my stomach droped (I had a friend recently tell me that they were in the ER just hours after their oldest boy received his pocket knife for Christmas).
But this is what I found when I stepped out the door.
she had used her new tool to make me the most precious message out of a leaf.
I think I am the luckiest mom in the world!
what a sweet doll!
And when it was bed time, Boy remarked "don't you think the second day with my knife will be even better than the first?" I am guessing he feels mature, special, and proud too.