As moms, we get used to the fact that 90% of what we say is deflected by our childrens' selective hearing (that they undoubtedly inherited from their fathers). And like every other mom, I can often be heard reiterating some version of, "What did I tell you/Do you remember what I told you/Why did I tell you that?" Knowing full well that I won't get an answer.

But! Sometimes kids surprise us. Today I was attempting to trim Sawyer's hair over his ears and at the nape of his neck. As cute as the rattail was, it needs to stay in 1994. Now, Sawyer doesn't like any part of being held down, or having various objects near his face. His first and only professional haircut at 21 months old involved many tears.

So, in an attempt to make it quick and painless (on his part anyway, as I was taking a few wild kicks and headbutts to the chin) I had him in my lap with my legs wrapped around his waist, left arm pulling his arms snug to his sides, and right hand wielding the scissors. (Yeah, sounds like a great way to get a straight haircut, right?) I began snip-snip-snipping at the hair over his ears and he kept ducking his head away and trying to shield with his hands.

"Sawyer, just hold still, it doesn't hurt when you cut hair. What hurts is when you wiggle and thrust yourself at the scissors."

More head-bobbing and swatting. And then he said, "MOMMY. This is scissors. This is very dangerous."

Now, how can you even begin to argue with that? I had no choice but to leave his hair lopsided, because I have no clue how to explain to a 2-year-old that he shouldn't play with scissors but Mommy can cut pieces of his body off with them. A battle for another day, I guess.

Later, we picked my little sister up from school. She wasn't even halfway into the car before Sawyer was chattering away. "ANNA! Hey Anna! You go to school? What you doing? You sit on your seat? I sittin' in my seat. Beckett's in him seat. We go to Grandma's house? Where's Grandma? Hi Anna!" And then, not even a block away from the school and he stops short in his chatter and I can see his eyebrows arch into a concerned look in the rearview mirror.

"ANNA. You wear your seat belt. To be SAFE. Put it on."

He watched closely as she buckled it, then was rattling off questions again.

Once in awhile, he does listen.