One stupid mistake...

...I think I was told that before I was 7 years old.

My knife education started at about four years of age. My dad asked me to go get his pocket knife from his bedside table and bring it to him. As I was walking back to the living room, I apparently wanted to help him out by opening the blade (the big one, of course), and instead managed to have it snap down across the backs of 3 or 4 fingers as it closed on my hand. He and I both still remember the sight of me walking into the living room with the knife still closed on my fingers, blood dripping down my arm and onto the floor. But that's when my lessons on handling sharp tools started. ;) Haven't seriously cut myself since, and the times I have been cut, it was because I broke one of the rules he taught me.
 
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