He's dangerous with a blade

This morning on the train ride I remembered how when I was in 2nd grade (7-yrs-old) my parents gave me a goal to encourage me academically. I think it was specifically for my spelling tests. A good grade earned me my first pocket knife! Something every good southern boy had, and my cousins already used theirs, making me jealous I didn't have one yet. Success! Goal achieved and knife in hand, I sat on our front porch whittling a stick when the knife slipped and cut my index finger. I remember the bleeding. I also have a nice scar to commemorate the experience with.

Luckily when I got my first gun for christmas at the age of 10, I did not have a similar experience of accidental violence.