My five-year-old called me out on high-mindedness last night.
We had a lovely night last night with some friends visiting, so we could catch up before Christmas and exchange gifts for each others' kids. After they left my girls were unwrapping the birthday gifts their godmother had given them, and I was using the large kitchen scissors to free the Barbies from the tiny, transparent but industrial strength plastic ropes that bound them in ten places to their cardboard containers.
As M stepped near me to get a closer look I said "Be careful of my scissors!" in that authoritarian voice mums use when we're running the show and sending a warning.
M was not having it. "No Mum, it's not me that has to be careful, it's you, because you're the one waving them around."
And she was right, of course.