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“Carli!” I shouted, chasing after her as she ran through the house with my pocket knife. “Get your ass back here!”
She giggled, squealing as she ran around the corner and down the stairs. I’d barely pulled on my jeans when I saw her sneak out of my bedroom with something in her hand. It was only when I looked at my nightstand that I realized I’d emptied my pockets and left the tool there for her to snatch.
I was still dripping with water from my shower and Izzy was supposed to be here any minute. I chased her down the stairs, scared she was going to fall from how fast she was moving.
“Carli, stop right now! That’s not a toy!”
She spun around and held the pocket knife out like a weapon. It was fully closed, but that didn’t matter to her. Ever since we saw that movie about the princess and the knight, she thought everything was a sword.
“Daddy, stop or I’ll cut you down!”
I skidded to a stop and narrowed my eyes at her. “You wouldn’t.”
A devilish look crossed her face, then she screamed and ran at me, plunging the closed knife into my stomach. I gasped, holding my side as I looked at her as I collapsed to the ground.
“Daddy?”
“Why?” I asked, pretending I was really injured.
“Daddy!”
I looked down where my hand was cupped over my side, then back to her. Tears swam in her eyes as she yanked my hand away and saw everything was fine. Her eyes jerked up to mine.
“You lied!” she screamed, beating her fists against my chest as she wailed.
I grabbed her hands in mine and forced her to look at me. “Carli, stop right now.”
Her tears instantly dried up and she halted at the seriousness in my voice.
I grabbed the knife from her and unfolded it, showing her the sharp blades. “Do you see these?”
She nodded, biting her lip.
“These could seriously injure someone. You could have hurt me.”
“But you were faking,” she cried.
I nodded. “To prove a point. Were you scared?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Why?”
“Because I thought I hurt you.”
“Exactly. Some things are fine to play with, but baby girl, this is a real weapon, and we never play around with weapons. Do you understand me?”
“I’m sorry,” she sniffled.
“I know.” I tugged her to me and patted her back as she cried. “You would never hurt anyone, baby, but accidents happen. That’s why we never play with anything that could actually hurt someone.”
She pulled away from me and wiped the tears from her face. “Like your gun?”
“Yes. Like my gun. You are never allowed to touch my gun or anyone else’s. Not until I show you how to use one the right way and you can prove to me that you can handle it.”
“Tomorrow?” she asked innocently.
I couldn’t help but smile at that. “Nope. Many, many years from now. Guns are used to scare away boyfriends.”