Hold Your Tongue, Mary

I'm sure none of you struggle with this problem, but occasionally I say something without thinking it through first. Such was the case last night. Una was watching me as I finished sewing the spectacular pumpkin trick-or-treating bags featured in yesterday's post. "Careful, mom. You don't want to hurt your fingers," she cautioned me (Una is and always has been the cautious one. Now if I could only get some of that caution to rub off on Duet) as my hands guided the fabric toward the the needle that was moving up and down. I thanked her for her reminder and explained that I was going to be fine since I kept my fingers away from the needle. Minutes later she asked me how old she would need to be when she could learn how to sew. Then Una followed up that inquiry with this: "Does Dad know how to sew?" I continued to focus on my sewing, and with the needle bobbing and the machine whirring in front of me I answered: "Sort of. He sews people." (Now would be a good time to mention to you readers that Bert is training to become a surgeon. Of course Una knows this, she just doesn't know what being a surgeon actually entails). Why I decided to describe his profession in this manner, I cannot say. Clearly I wasn't thinking. She wore a horrified look on her face and for once in her life she was speechless. Bert, unsatisfied with my comments (and rightfully so), stepped in and offered Una a better, less frightening, description. Not my finest parenting moment.