My first knife

I think my first knife is an appropriate story for my first real post.

 

For as long as I can remember I had a fascination with knives. What boy didn’t? When I was six or seven years old, I would play with screw drivers and pretend they were knives. Or I would steal my moms butter knives and use those for playing in the dirt and sand.  That quickly became outlawed.  Eventually, when I was probably 8 or 9, my dad decided to buy me my first pocket knife. I was so excited.

 

We went to the sporting goods store–my dad, my 2 older sisters and I–at the local shopping center, which happened to be right next door to a Burger King. The 2 businesses shared a wall, to give you perspective of how close they were, which is semi relevant. We went inside and looked at the case full of knives. My dad let me pick the one I wanted. It was similar to a Swiss army knife. It was pretty small though. Just about as appropriate as you could get for a boys first knife.

 

My dad went over how important it is to be careful with it. how sharp it is, never cut towards yourself, careful you don’t close it on yourself, etc etc. He made sure I knew it was a responsibility not to be taken lightly. He made sure I knew how easily I could hurt myself. I assured him I understood all of these things and that I was ready. We bought the knife, and before we were out the door I cut my thumb pretty bad.

 

I had never hurt myself that bad before, so I was really freaking out. My dad sent my sisters next door to Burger King to get some napkins for my thumb while we remained inside the sporting goods store. That’s how bad it was, and how much I was freaking out, that I couldn’t even go right next door. We just waited.

 

My sisters came back about 15 minutes later with napkins and milkshakes in hand. They explained that the line was really long. of course they could have just taken napkins from one of about 7 different places throughout Burger King and just returned. but no, they figured while they were there they might as well get milkshakes. It should be noted that I did not get a milkshake.

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2 Comments on “My first knife”

  1. Janyaa Says:

    I remember when my younger brother got his first pocket knife. He was so proud of it and would find all sorts of reasons to pull it out of his pocket and use it- even if it was just cutting up little twigs!

    Then one day, we were climbing trees and it must have fallen out. He was so bummed. 😦

    That stinks that you hurt yourself right out of the gate. I bet your mom was not pleased!

    • enpfhy Says:

      Ah yes, the first lost knife. I remember mine. I use to hide it under a part of the small playground build at the end of our community driveway. It was a safe place nobody would ever look. But I forgot it when we moved out. Went back later and it was gone.

      I hope your brother isn’t forever haunted by his first lost knife like I am 😀


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