clipped.

A few days ago, you began scratching at my neck and daddy's face.
Time to clip your nails. Again.
This is a weekly chore.
Your nails are like little razor blades scritch-scratching their marks into everyone's faces.
I got through your right hand before starting on your left thumb.
Clip... WAH!
I clipped your skin.
Your finger gets hot to the touch and turns bright pink. I stop; feeling terrible.

Today, you cut daddy's face with your left hand.
I should finish what we started.
While he holds you, I grab your left thumb to hold it steady - you wriggle and fight endlessly.
Clip... WHA!
I clipped your skin. Again.
This time, blood.
You look at me like, 'why in the hell would you want to intentionally inflict so much pain on me? What was I doing, that was so awful, that you would, again, grab my already sore thumb and cut into it again? Why? Why? WHY?'
You cried and sobbed.
You cried and got yourself upset to the point of needing another afternoon nap.
I put you down, bleeding... sore thumb... and upset at the world.
I leave your room and Rob suggests I take a nap... looking tired myself.
Your pain makes me upset to the point of needing a nap.
I go to make dinner.
And cry.