Don’t have one.
A “scissor fit” is part of the jargon of my family. (Jargon: Special words or expressions that are used by a particular profession or group and are difficult for others to understand.) Although I’m not sure how difficult it is for others to understand. There’s a good chance your mother used to have scissor fits, too. Or their equivalent.
In my house, they went something like this—and usually around the holidays when present wrapping was a thing my mom was trying to do.
~~~
Scene: A suburban living room. Children peacefully going about their business—doing homework, setting the table. Okay, let’s be realistic. Children running around and raising hell—dismantling the vacuum cleaner, mopping up the spilled soda with the cat.
(There is the sound of drawers opening and closing, with increasing ferocity—and, possibly, of the cat yowling.)
The Mother: Where are the scissors?
The First Kid: I don’t know.
The Second Kid: Dunno
The Third Kid: (turning the cat upside down into the puddle of soda) I didn’t take ’em.
The Mother: (loudly) Who took the scissors?!
The Second Kid: Not me.
The First Kid: Not me.
The Third Kid: Owwww! Yowww! Yoww! Mom! The cat bit me!!!
The Mother: Somebody took the scissors. I’m so sick of this. I buy forty-eleven pairs of scissors, and stick one in each drawer, so I can have a pair of scissors WHEN I WANT ONE and what happens?! There is never a pair of scissors WHEN I WANT ONE! You all better stop taking the scissors! And if you take the scissors, you better PUT THEM BACK!!!!!
~~~
Now, at this point, a smart kid will run and hide. Only the especially brave or the especially stupid will point out that “forty-eleven” is not a real number. Either way, the day does not end well.
At my house, as we got older, this whole thing became known as a “scissor fit.” As in, one kid would come into the house with the uproar already in progress, ask “What’s going on?” The answer would come, “Mom’s having a scissor fit.” “Got it,” would say the first kid and duck back out the door.
I thought of this yesterday.
Guess why?
Because the scissors were not where I had put them.
And I don’t even have forty-eleven kids to move them around.
So, alls I’m sayin’ is—the scissors are going to go missing. It’s one of the things that happens.
Just chill.
