Do you have a scar you got when you were a kid? I bet you can point right to it and possibly even remember exactly what you did to earn it! Though I never broke a bone as a child, I did get one scar that shows itself to the world every day.
One bright and cheery morning during my 4th year of life, my mom called all four of us Tapp kids together to show us the item that would become my mission for the day. Mom had just gotten a new pair of sewing scissors that I remember being warned not to touch because they could cut through corduroy, wood, and your face! These things were CRAZY sharp and mom told us that she was putting them away so we couldn’t find them or get hurt. These things made the coolest sound when they cut…like a sword being pulled out of a sheath! They were awesome! SO, my previously uneventful day now was booked! I had to find those scissors!
That night, I remember sitting with my dad watching a Dateline or 20/20 kind of show. Though only 4 years old, I remember being fascinated with this show! They were talking about how children who had imaginary friends were found to be highly intellectual! So, I put that on the agenda for the next day – must get some imaginary friends!
As true to a four-year-old memory, I don’t know where or when I found the sewing scissors, but, buddy, I found ‘em! That next morning, I sat on my bed with those forbidden scissors in my microscopic, yet highly pudgy hands and gazed into my wall. Let the imaginary debacle begin! I thought to myself, “I know, I’ll be a school teacher like mom, and all the kids can sit out there”…in the wall. And there came the classroom, the desks, the books, the American flag in the corner, the alphabet on the wall above the windows, and the scene was set. Now, I just needed some students in those desks. The only student I remember was Brett. He sat in the front desk on the far right. Brett was a pill.
The lesson for the day that I was teaching to my newly imagined class was “How To Use Scissors,” of course! Lord have MERCY! I began by showing the class how the scissors opened and closed with the scissors pointing away from me. I encouraged them to get their scissors out of their pencil boxes and try to open and close theirs that way, too. They were all getting along beautifully, continuously opening and closing their scissors, and I thought, “Oh man, I’m gonna have to figure out what to teach them NEXT!” All of the sudden, I heard Brett say, “I don’t understand! I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to use ‘em. Can you turn ‘em around?” Well, I was the TEACHER after all! Of course, I could turn them around! I mean, I was old enough to locate hidden scissors that could cut through WOOD, so you better believe I could turn these puppies around! So, I did.
“See Brett, you just open and close them the same way you would if you held them the other way. No biggie,” I said as I continued opening and closing those beautifully crafted sewing scissors. “Ummmm…could you hold them up higher? I can’t see ‘em so good!” he petitioned. Well, any good teacher knows that your students need a visual aid. So, I held them up higher, but Brett the Pill wasn’t satisfied. “Nope! Still can’t see ‘em and neither can the kids in the back. Can you hold ‘em up higher so we can see how to do it?!” He was driving me crazy! Wanting to be the best four-year-old teacher EVER, I held them up at eye level – my eye level – opening and closing them. His final request was a doozy. “I bet you can’t hold them closer to your face!” he taunted. After all I had gone through to teach this ingrate how to use scissors, I wasn’t going to let the class suffer simply because I wasn’t being a good enough visual aid. I remember wanting to excel at being a good teacher. So, I moved the scissors closer to my face. (May I just share with you that a year later, when I was in K5, we realized that I needed glasses because I had a severe astigmatism. So, this 4 year old also couldn’t see all too well.)
And that’s when it happened.
I didn’t know why my nose tickled so badly. But, OH, I just couldn’t stop rubbing it or squinting my eyes shut because it tickled SO MUCH. I wasn’t sure if I needed to sneeze or what was happening because I hadn’t experience this type of tickle before. But, it seemed weird that my little hand was sliding around on my face. So, to investigate the situation, I pulled my hand back to see what the deal was. And that’s when I saw that all the way down to my elbow was covered in blood. THAT seemed weird because I didn’t think those scissors were anywhere near my face! I was not only enduring an insane tickling sensation in my nose, but I was also dripping all over the place. So, I knew I best go show my mom.
I think I remember her dropping the phone on the floor when she saw me. I was rushed to the hospital while laying down in the backseat of our station wagon with my mom trying to understand this EPIC tale of how this had all happened. When we got to the doctor’s office, I spotted an ENORMOUS basket of lollipops sitting at the receptionist’s window. I forgot about the lollipops while the doctor surveyed my face. I knew it was bad when my dad left the room. Mom came over and said, “Ok, we need to make a deal.” I didn’t care what was about to come, I just said, “I want the lollipops in the window.” The doctor said, “SURE, she can have a lollipop!” And, though that would have been nice, I said, “Mom, I want THE BASKET of lollipops.” She looked at the doctor, and he nodded. And that’s when I knew this was REALLY gonna hurt. Mom proceeded to teach me how to do labor breathing. I saw behind her the doctor prepping the longest needle known to man. That’s when I knew it was a good thing I was getting THE BASKET of lollipops.
I remember crossing my eyes watching the needle go directly into my nose. Seven stiches later, I realized it was possible for me to feel like I look like a dinosaur. The real tragedy to me at the time was that I wasn’t able to swim on the swim team. I would have been the youngest kid on our swim team. I was crushed. I didn’t care that I would have a scar on my nose. I didn’t care that my crazy siblings would tell me that I was a Child Of V (the 80s TV show about aliens) because I had a V on my face that marked me as one of their own!
My parents shared with me that as they watched me fall asleep that night, they saw how close I had come to slitting my eye. I had scabs on my eye lids! I didn’t realize how close I had come to CUTTING THROUGH MY EYES with those sewing scissors. Next time you see me, feel free to see if you can see my v-shaped scare on my nose. It’s THERE!
I can see your scar.
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