Scissors are typically stashed after paper is hacked into a thousand slivers. When the double-edged blades glimmer on a table, little girls are tempted. The plant misses a few leaves. A shirt has random holes. Somehow hair escaped nipping. Until now.

Sunshine watches everything I do. She wants to be a mommy when she grows up; Mommy cuts hair. Practicing her skills on compliant little sister didn’t have the desired effect.

It’s not bad considering Sunshine is five. And scissors are sharp. And Sweet Pea has elvish ears.

Yes, I cut hair, but I wasn’t confident to work on this style.

After a few tears and finally laughter, Sweet Pea bounced from the beautician’s chair and fluttered around, light and free. Her pixie cut matches her personality.

Her sister promises not to cut hair until she’s a Mommy. She doesn’t have to wait that long, but please don’t say anything. I haven’t quite accepted this rite of passage.

My babies slip away day by day. That is by design, but it challenges this mother’s heart to expand beyond the hectic days and gather the moments scattered on the floor. The pieces of today will be treasures tomorrow. I need to remember that when I’m tempted to scream.