Sometimes You Are a Small Child Who Just Needs To Use a Tool

And the adults in the room make it nearly impossible for you

The bad scissors. Wikimedia Commons.

It’s 1974, and probably raining. I am in my first or second week of kindergarten at a small school in Massachusetts, and I am probably sad because it’s dark out — it is always dark out. I am fat and four years old, a slightly strange kid. I never know what…