Nails

Dr. Mr. Baby:

Okay, ha ha, Edward Scissorhands.  Your nails fucking hurt.  Stop clawing me.  Not only does it hurt,  it's vaguely upsetting to the psyche, the way clowns and Teletubbies are.  (Don't ask me to explain).  The "'Most Babies Can Do" chart, which we refer to whenever you're doing something annoying or weird, says you should be getting your hands under control by now.  I don't know if that's supposed to be while you're doing the bit where you cry but no sound actually emerges from your mouth - you know, when your head appears to actually contain all of the blood in your body and really look about to blast right off your neck and go spraying all over the house like a deflating red balloon?  But try it anyway (getting hands under control, not blowing your head up).  Just because you're pissed off is no reason to be undignified. 

Back to the point, Wolverine; the nail clipper is really our friend.  You have to stop flailing around and whacking it if you don't want blood.  It's safe, because we paid extra, but not that safe.  I'm not trying to cut off your damn finger.  You won't feel a thing if you just hold fracking still.  Yes, I know, we've said that before and it was a pack of lies.  But this time it really is just a little snip. 

Mr. Baby, I'm just trying to keep people, dogs, and any errant paper products safe from your spazzy, mulcher-hands.   You could decapitate someone just getting overzealous about something interesting on the wall.  Also, you're literally going to dig your own eyeball out of your fucking head.  What are you going to do with one eye?  Be a pirate?  How the hell is that going to help anyone?

Mittens?  Ha.  You ate the last pair.  I mean, I really think you ate them, because the last time I saw them they were headed toward your mouth and no one knows where they are now.  (Don't expect me to be worried about that.  I have enough on my plate, and I stopped worrying about swallowed items long before you ever got here: just ask the dog.  He's eaten at least forty plastic bags and he seems fine to me).

Fingernails on babies, it turns out, are dangerous, Mr. Baby.  So just chill the hell out and let me cut those things with either one of my two pairs of Safety First! Baby Safety Nail Clippers, which are extra safe because they were made in the name of safety, but just can't help us if you jab at me the whole time.  Let me do it, Mr. Baby.  Before we all get shredded.  Shredded into a million little pieces by your demonic little hands.