You won't find this one at Toys 'R' Us:
That's my boy, yes sirree.
Yup, A. purchased an old scythe this past week (for various uses including possibly cutting some loose hay for the sheep in the neighbor's unused field), and do you think I could keep Cubby from trying it out? No way in hell.
Funny thing is, ridiculous as it looks to give an eight-foot scythe to a three-year-old, it's actually one of the safer tools he can use. It's too heavy for him to lift and the handle is so long he's a long way from the blade. As long as there are no dogs or babies in the vicinity, he can't cause any real damage; he just kind of pulls it along on the ground.
But I bet there's still more than one person out there shaking her* head at my parenting choices. That's cool. Doesn't bother me. And it could be worse. Cubby informed me today that now that he's three, he's old enough for a pistol, no doubt inspired by the very educational and (I now see) ill-advised book on pirates we got from the library yesterday.
That scythe doesn't look so bad now, does it?
* I use the feminine pronoun deliberately, as the odds are pretty low that any male head is doing anything right now other than thinking, "That scythe is RAD. I wanna try it."