You've got to be careful with knives.

Here's the story. The kids had not been eating their dinners, so as Papa Jerk I ruled that henceforth there would be no snacks issued after 4:30pm.  One subsequent evening, around 5:30pm, the boy asked Mommy for an apple, which was cheerfully delivered to him.  An animated discussion ensued between Mommy and Papa Jerk, in which Papa Jerk was asked to at least cut a couple of slices for the poor boy who, after all, had not even eaten much lunch.

The cuts were made angrily, their speed and ferocity increasing with each muttered curse, until the bad feelings in the room physically manifested themselves in a fountain of crimson spilling across the cutting board and counter.

The moral of the story is that jerks should only cut in peace (har), not in anger. Also, that fingertips grow back pretty well.  And also that kids don't like apples for a while after their father douses a couple of them in his own blood.  Apparently that sort of thing leaves a pretty strong impression on a kid.  Two months later the kid is still telling me to be careful and not cut my finger each time I pick up a knife.

That is all.