Michael is a scout and his uncle got him a penknife for his birthday. Or a pocket knife as he calls it because, apparently, we are all Americans now.
His uncle, observing the success of Michael’s penknife got one for Daniel for Christmas. He too was very pleased notwithstanding having given himself a nasty nick when he first used it.
The other morning, just as he was about to trip into school, Daniel mentioned that he had brought in his penknife to show to his classmates. I felt best not. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked mournfully as I put it into my bag. “It’s not you, it’s all the other children,” I reassured him.
Am I being an overprotective hovering parent or am I cutting down on knife crime in schools? Who knows? At least nobody will lose an eye, I suppose.
